


God's of Death Want Life Too

by M_K_Dockery



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Alternate History, Ancient History, Ancient Rome, Older Man/Younger Woman, War, Warrior - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 29,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29332056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_K_Dockery/pseuds/M_K_Dockery
Summary: Wrote this back in 2013.It is a companion to the canon of the scenes with Gannicus, Saxa and Sibyl.I wrote about 12k words and don't know how finished it is. I am just going chapter by chapter and refining it a little. Just a little side project to keep active. Editing and re reading old work is always informative. ;)leave me a comment so that i can know if this fandom is alive or dead, PLEASE!
Relationships: Crixus/Naevia, Gannicus/Saxa, Gannicus/Sibyl, Laeta/Spartacus, Nasir/Agron
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

Sibyl: 

His image seared on her vision, when she closed her eyes even later she saw him. He was precisely what she prayed for. What the gods delivered and it could not be denied. 

Long had her fellow slaves wished an end to their service of a cruel master. Their house was ruled by the most reviled of Roman men. Their villa was a cesspit of debauchery and violence. He took great pleasure in inflicting pain and on so many with the help of business partners and friends. 

Laurus was the most influential Roman in the city as a prominent businessman he had the means to acquire and replace slaves as he had a great need and thirst. 

Following orders from her savior a moment later to set herself free, she moved to purpose and gently closed her beloved friend's eyes and prayed him to a much-deserved afterlife. 

The villa was full of screams, that of her Domina, and their friends and now she was alone with only the company of the dead to comfort. Moving to feet and left her Dominus’s villa. All the horrors she was made to bear witness and endure during her ten years with him as her master echoed through the halls as she left. 

All the fonder memories of her mother who was a favorite slave of her Dominus had been clouded by her darker memories of his son who had taken over when dearest Dominus passed away. 

Thankfully his wife had ensured her chastity from him, but that did not stop him from taking her in other ways.

Her main job was to learn the ways of healing injuries to save him precious coin by prolonging suffering under his roof. Sometimes she did not do all she could to save them. The many lives she guided to distant shores as she prayed for the gods to favor them better in death than in life. 

The endless tears dried from her eyes in a single vision. A god in the human form delivered her and the rest of her fellow slaves to freedom. 

Once Dominus was struck down, so was her tie and bond to the house and those in it. Her dear friends were dead. All she had was her living god. She begged one of her liberators to tell her who he was and all she got in reply from the man was “He’s a God of the Arena.” 

Her heart raced. She knew the "who" he spoke of. 

Whisper’s among the female slaves was that he was a god in other ways that would make her blush. He had been everything and more than the rumors told. 

She tried to remain occupied in helping all that were injured or hungry. But there were times she heard his voice over the others and she would stop whatever she was doing and follow it to the source. 

Memory only fed the hunger to see once more within sight. She tried not to follow, but she could not help the magnetic pull she had to him. 

She had come to know that he had a woman that he was physical with, if not tender. She did not want to cause hurt, she just wanted to be able to see him, to know he was well, and to be of any use to him to offer thanks for all that he has done. 

If she had means, to but build an altar or a temple in his honor. 

Approaching him first was not something she could gain the courage to do. She but prayed for a chance to show gratitude. 

He noticed her of late and his eyes would linger in her direction as if in acknowledgment and confusion. He had question in his eyes and she sensed that the hero would not give voice to it. 

When coming to the loud celebration she hid in the shadows for fear of men and their appetites. She knew too well the hedonistic life that these rebels were enjoying. It was the life of a wealthy roman with slaves to pick and choose from. She was vulnerable among them, but she could not stay away. 

She normally had good instincts but she did not hear his woman coming up behind her. She was too caught in the sound of his laughter. It was balm to her soul to hear it ring loud and clear above the crowd. 

“Dangerous thing,” His woman’s cold voice said startlingly close to her ear. “Eye’s upon man not your own.” The blond warrior woman rounded on her coming between her and the man she worshiped from afar. She said such words with threat and malice that she cowered. 

“Apologies, I meant no offense,” she replied but was caught short by the woman forcefully covering her mouth with her hand thus pushing her against the wall. 

“You want his cock inside you?” she asked thrusting herself against the fearful girl. 

Sibyl could not form words to answer. She was unable to easily explain what she wanted from him. He had already given her life. What more could she want from him. 

“Speak little thing.” His woman demanded. 

She looked up to face the woman honestly. “He saved my life. I desire only to thank him.” she looked away ashamed and embarrassed to be found so. To wish to engage in an act that creates life with the man that saved her own was far too much to ask, she was sure.


	2. Chapter 2

Saxa drug the little thing behind her through the narrow streets. She was angry and facing her enemy directly tonight. Little 'Thing' would not stop following Gannicus, so perhaps facilitating and chaperoning their encounter was the only way to get it over with. 

She could see there was something about this girl not like other women Gannicus lie with. That is what made her concern rise. For a year they fucked but since coming to Sinuesa he had pulled back from reckless pursuit of pleasure. 

Little 'Thing' came inside the villa as instructed. She was used to obeying orders that it was briefly thrilling to personally washed every inch of her body. To have her tremble in fear from her. 

Once finished washing her she removed her own leathers and shoved a sponge in her hand. “Wash me,” she instructed. Sibyl standing naked behind her shook and scrubbed lightly along her back. 

“Harder. (German)” she snapped. “He likes it hard, tomorrow you not walk.” she laughed trying to quell the unease inside. 

Sibyl closed her eyes, pained by the words. Her breath shallow as she thought of the night to come. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath to steady fraying nerves and remained silent. 

Saxa sneered as she turned. “He will grow bored and turn to me after tearing new hole inside you.” 

Sibyl dropped her head and looked away not wishing to betray the fear she so plainly wore in her eyes. 

Saxa chose from among the trunks. A sheer simple dress she hoped to present little thing to her lover and gain his appreciation and adoration for fulfilling shadow fantasy to reality, and under her own hand. But when she saw girl clean and adorned her. She could not deny being attracted to both man and woman that breath stole from throat.

Dressed now she chose a sultry pink and her gut roiled for fear that little thing would outshine even her elevated beauty. Too late to back out now.

——  
The hour was late and the party had now changed to brawl and Gannicus made his exit, bidding his friend a heartfelt good night. He was off to find Saxa and engage in their routine nightly wrestle and fight for the most control and pleasure sometimes inflicting significant pain. 

It was somewhat cathartic, if not mildly entertaining and occasionally diverting. 

Keeping to his feet was harder than on other nights, needing the walls of the narrow streets to keep him upright. Coming to a doorway he looked around trying to remember if it was the right one that he claimed home. 

Pushing open the doors he found himself greeted with Saxa, all washed and dressed as a roman woman. Her purple-pink adornments making her look more soft and delicate than she was and he knew it. They however did not completely disguise her true nature as her raw sexuality seemed to draw him inside. Curious he smiled. 

He found himself looking her up and down and marveling at how nicely she looked in it and imagined her as a different woman for a brief moment.

“You left absent word,” he said moving on as she turned around coyly. “There was a fight. It was very loud,” he said drunkenly wanting feigned sympathy. 

Saxa pouted and kissed him as he leaned in to deepen the kiss. 

She broke from him a breath later. “I move to make shadow flesh,” she explained cryptically. 

“Yeah?” he asked. 

She chuckled and led him through to the next room. He l grabbed her from behind and kissed her along her neck. 

“….and to bring desire…” her voice was husky and he felt as if she was trying to reel him in like a fish. 

He laughed with her as they came through the hall. 

His eyes caught figure firelight lit, standing at an open window. 

“For you,” Saxa said finally but he had ceased listening. He had gone senseless for a moment, struck dumb by the vision before him. 

“Come,” she said as she ordered the girl closer and the figure did as commanded. 

It was her, presented before him. He could not pretend to look her over and ignore her like errant child. 

Breath ceased from chest and the rest of the world fell away. His eyes met her. 

Warmth spread in his breast to have such a woman offered to him. Time slowed and life-sustaining air came in measured rations as he watched Saxa touch the girl as her eyes tentatively met his. When her eyes lighted on his she looked unafraid but entirely innocent and without the agendas, he was used to seeing in a woman's eyes. The unspoken bargain... Her's were just open and offering...

Saxa pulled at the strings of the girl's dress and he could see the lack of experience in her eyes. She was probably a virgin. He tended to avoid those but this time it called a tenderness from inside him to rise. 

Saxa boldly pushed the newly naked perfection at him and he didn’t know what to do. He was at a loss. 

He wanted her. 

Stepping forward he reached up to her face and looked deep into her eyes. If he were to lay with her he would not want it to be thus. He did not want to share her, and yet he felt unworthy. 

This goddess was someone who you did not use as you would a tool. 

She was a woman to worship. She was a woman to live for. 

Touching his hand to her chin he briefly imagined what it would be like to be that kind of a man. His fingers gently caressed tender flesh and his heartbeat skipped. She looked up at him trusting, and open and he could see she wanted him too and he felt ashamed for that. Not flattery. 

Seeing dirtied hand upon such pure flesh felt a crime. To be dirtied and spoiled thusly by himself and his woman. 

The girl deserved more. 

He looked at her longingly as the war raged within. He could not do this to her, to use her in such a cruel way. 

Willing himself to disengage Gannicus looked down as his finger reluctantly. Hand retreated from cherished touch. His face noticeably changed and he avoided eye contact for fear his resolve would weaken.

“Gather your robes and leave us,” he said after a moment. Saxa was still touching and nuzzling into the girl. 

He could see the confusion and pain on her face despite his effort to act aloof. 

“Go.” he needed her out of sight. Time went back to moving at normal pace once she had vanished. 

Saxa moved to assure herself that girl had left. “She does not please?” she asked. 

He did not wish to explain truth so he formed excuse. 

“She is but a child, and I would have a woman tend to my needs in the brief hours before I move with Spartacus,” he said as she confidently shed her clothes exposing her magnificent body. Of which was the only thing that drew him to her. 

———  
He took his fill of Saxa that night three times to slake his lust that the dark-eyed girl had ignited, but the tenderness he felt upon reflection of the moment filled him with such warmth in memory. Something to draw upon in days to come. 

He drank his fill of more wine. In-fact he took with him a pitcher. Anything to cloud thought from memory this night. 

Stepping outside he found the object that occupied his mind the past hours. “Oh,” he said drunk and overwhelmed and needing to evade her. 

“Apologies, I would have words.” her sweet voice rang in his pounding head made so by large amount made on behalf of banishing her from memory. 

He continued his retreat from her. “I would not.” He thought he had been cutting enough without cruelty. He had no desire to hurt her. 

She scoffed. “You have not given opportunity towards gratitude.” 

Turning he was curious to listen further. 

“I yet draw breath because of you,” she said as she sensed her only chance.

He heard this before, though normally aimed at Spartacus directly. But occasionally he had those that believe it was him they owed some measure of gratitude, misguided thought they were. He did it to honor Onemaus alone. 

“Your dominus fell to an act of war,” he said dismissively. 

She smiled reverently. “He fell to a hero sent by the gods.” 

On that, he had to laugh. She thought him a man sent by gods. 

“One that does not recall your name,” he said dissuading her from forming attachment but craving to have knowledge of what she was called. 

“My name is Sibyl,” she answered blushing, finding no offense. She did not think so very much of herself to merit remembrance. 

“Sibyl,” he said his voice soft and low. “And you feel you owe debt, Sibyl?” he said her name again relishing in it on weighted tongue. 

Her face took on a resolute expression. “I owe you everything.” 

Again he felt weak but he too was resolved. She had no business with him, and he had nothing to offer such as one so far above his shit-stained self. He didn’t want to injure her, but he did want to protect her, from himself and others like him. 

“Then see it repaid,” he said stepping close to her a final time and taking the narrow sweet chin again with his hand. Close enough to breathe in her anxious breath. “by staying far from my presence, and men of my kind.” 

Her wide eyes weakened him that his voice turned harsh, only to firmly sever the connection that was inevitably forming between them and moved from her while he still yet had the will to. 

He did not wish to admit to anyone, even himself how reluctant he was to turn and forget her… But he would not be able to, he was almost certain. 

Sibyl.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sad so few are still even in this fandom. :( Sad face. I loved this couple. Doesn't matter. I am going to try to crank out this old fiction and refine it as I go. 
> 
> I hope if you enjoy it you leave a shout out. :) It feels like an echo chamber compared to other fandoms I write for. Lol. 
> 
> Man...I can't believe Spartacus has gotten toooo old! Say it ain't so!

Days later he found himself walking among the city streets passing by the remaining Roman prisoners. One being beaten within an inch of his life. The weaker man's blood coating the stone behind his head. brightly. 

Gannicus violently intervened as would Spartacus in that situation. Though he held no love for any Roman, he felt for the man, craving word of his sister. He tried to imagine himself in such position craving scraps of beloved one. But besides his friends, he had no one like that he held so close to heart any longer. 

Saxa was his bed partner and by way of mutual energetic compatability she was a habit, but he could not imagine begging for scraps of information of her like this man of his sister. 

“I have not seen her.” He answered the man hoping to give him at least a modicum of peace with his honesty. He held no love for Roman’s but he did hold respect for affection and concern. For he had lost much in his life himself. He had lost enough… another reason why sharing his life with Saxa was better. If they were to part he would simply be able to move on. 

He found it a strange line of thinking as the girl came to mind. She had not been easily seen about. Before Sibyl, now he could recall her name as easily as if it were his own, she would always be near like pup to heel. Since her words of gratitude and his harsh ones in return she had been distant and only briefly appeared earlier that day when the new recruits of slaves were being assessed. Otherwise, he had looked for her and not seen her lurking as she usually did. 

Perhaps she had listened to him and heeded him. 

Moments later as he discussed the reasoning of their leader in letting the Roman citizens live with Saxa she muttered things in her native tongue that he still had no understanding of as the girl, Sibyl stumbled into his path breathless and flushed with concern. 

Saxa spoke something in German neither of them could understand again and he smiled, somehow torn between being bothered and humored seeing her. 

“Gannicus, I must have words,” she said hurriedly. 

“None give, little girl. Not drink and fuck.” she said saucily to Gannicus trying to subtly remind him that he didn’t want her. Or at the very least said so many nights before. 

Feeling in a teasing mood he found humor in Saxa’s words. “She makes valid argument,” he said in reply. 

“You must listen,” Sibyl said impatiently, not caring for their jokes or teasing. 

She launched herself desperately at him and he reaches out a fraction to accept but Saxa forcefully intervenes pushing her back hard in the chest. 

He briefly feels a strange confliction of irritation at the woman for coming between him and Sibyl. Did Saxa claim him? He had never exclusively claimed her. 

“I have lain eyes upon something that lends worry,” Sibyl said finally not caring for the other woman's actions.

He felt utter trust and honesty from her he was compelled to do the same. 

“Make point, or I bring tongue to it faster,” Saxa commanded from the sideline as she fingered her blade as she slipped it from belted sheath. 

Gannicus’s eyes had not left Sibyl’s as he took in her serious expression. It lacked the adoration, and open quality it usually held for him. It was piercing and he held firm to it as he sensed the gravity of her approach. This was not for adoration or appreciation. 

“Yes, speak Sibyl,” he said her name softly as he put his hand up to Saxa and stepped forward a fraction. 

With a deep breath, Sibyl fearfully glanced to Saxa awaiting her to stop her again. 

“What?” Saxa teased. “Did some strange monster steal tongue before I could coax to point?” Saxa asked impatiently. 

The girl sighed and shook her head as she swallowed fear and summoned courage. 

“It’s the roman woman, Laeta.” she said quickly. “I found her with more bread than rationed, and she forgot for a moment that she was no longer a domina.” her voice seemed strained. “She forbade me to say anything.” 

Gannicus was silent as he thought on this information. It was troubling as it caused him to think upon why the woman would be carrying more than her fair share. Paired with the fact that there were missing Romans that his Attius was blamed for assisting in their escape and subsequently killed for by Naviea. 

“So, a Roman is taking more than fair share.” Saxa rolled her eyes. “See, more reason to put Roman heads on pikes.” Saxa looked to Gannicus with a smile as she reflected on their earlier private conversation but he did not return it. 

“Where did she go?” he asked Sibyl. 

Sibyl turned her head. “To the other side of the city,” she answered. “Her husband had a stable there.” she cuddled into herself nervously. “I expect that could be a good place to hide perhaps.” 

He looked around them, then to Sibyl. “

“Show me the way,” he commanded. 

Saxa rolled her eyes. “Somevon else could show us…” she suggested. “Little Thing not the only person to know the city.”

Gannicus put out his hand and gestured to Sibyl to lead the way. 

“Yes, that may be true, but time may be of the essence,” he whispered into Saxa’s ear. 

“Time, time…” Saxa rolled her eyes. “It is just bread.” 

Gannicus shook his head. “Humor a fool. This could be far more than stolen fucking bread.” 

Saxa smiled with a roll of her eyes and followed him and the woman who occupied more and more of his quiet thoughts. 

The girl did not turn and look back. She merely led them through the maze of streets. 

“It could be a trap,” Saxa whispered. 

Gannicus shook his head. He could never imagine a trap against him coming from a girl such as Sibyl. In his heart, he knew her kind. Knew the purity of her soul towards him and though undeserved he did not question it. 

“You trust girl you know so little of?” Saxa questioned with a hiss. 

He remained silent and unable to explain his emotion in regards to the girl, or the instinctual trust he had in her word. 

Finally, they came to a wider street and Sibyl turned. Her dark blue eyes meeting his as her hand went to her mouth and she pointed to the double-hung wood doors that mounted on the high walls of the stable yard. 

Moving across the street in silence she went and he followed while Saxa hung behind mildly frustrated. 

Gannicus could hear whispers coming from within. 

“See heart lifted with welcome news.” The Roman woman Laeta said from within the walls, barely overheard from the street. 

Gannicus now put finger to mouth and his eyes looked to Sibyl’s with gratitude but also direction as his hand moved to open the wooden gate with measured silence. 

Saxa had now joined them as she eyed Sibyl with a territorial glare. 

Now Gannicus could see the Roman woman was speaking to a hole in the ground which hid a hidden door in the floor of the stable, veiled by straw. 

“Crassus and his legions are but a days march from our city.” the woman said. “He will retake it, and in the act end our suffering…”

He sighed and stepped forward for confrontation. “I fear it has just begun.” 

The Roman woman looked at him and Saxa confused and fearful as she looked at those who had caught her and finally her face fell upon Sibyl. 

“Apologies Laeta, I had to tell them what I saw.” Sibyl’s voice broke the silence of the face-off. She owned her part in the drama and was brave enough to admit it. 

Laeta looked at her as if in disbelief at the perceived betrayal. 

“The fault is my own,” she started calmly, then morphed into rage. “for laying trust in a rebellious slave!” she accused before Saxa viciously backhanded her and went to mortally stab her. 

Gannicus could not let that happen. He needed answers now that his eyes had fallen upon familiar Roman face. 

“Hold!” he said putting out his hand in front of Saxa. “This man, he is the one Attius had helped free?” Gannicus asked of his friend who had so recently been accused of aiding the Romans and had died for it. 

His finger fell upon the baker with the pregnant wife. 

“The blacksmith held no knowledge of it.” The Roman woman confessed. 

Saxa stood beside him, now understanding the gravity of the information gleaned from this stolen bread. “Your friend dead…” she looked to him. “Because of her.” she launched herself again at the Roman woman but he put his arm out a second time saving the woman. 

“See them bound and taken to Spartacus,” Gannicus ordered as he forcefully pushed Saxa back like a poorly trained hound, but he intended her to listen. “They are his concern,” he said moving from her in overwhelmed emotion. Anger, rage… vengence. 

“Where do you go?” Saxa asked as he left both Sibyl and Saxa to manage the Roman’s. 

“To see memory of Attius well fucking honored!” he shouted.


	4. Chapter 4

Gannicus sat aboard the Cilician ship with Ludo sharing drink. The man confessed to frayed nerves of the perils of sea voyage and Gannicus but wished to drown haunting memory of innocent friend struck down unjustly, and nearly all the remaining Roman’s within Sinuessa had been slaughtered. He had been unable to do anything to make Crixus see sense and all had been made worse with his intervention.

Rebellion within ranks of their own rebellion threatened to destroy them all and Gannicus felt powerless in the unraveling of it. Drink seemed the only logical path to one without a compass. 

Saxa directed some statement to him in her mother tongue and he tuned it out, among the many other senseless things she said. 

They were often curses. He knew it well.

Ludo however chuckled. “Oh you must learn our tongue.” he laughed. “So you know what cursed she rains upon you.” 

They both laughed now as Saxa stood straighter and spoke directly to Ludo in their common tongue. “Fuck your mother, you bloated cock eater,”

Gannicus who enjoyed a hot-headed woman turned to her and winked to charm and subdue her. She however turned from them both. 

He shrugged. “I prefer the bliss of ignorance,” he said. Truth was, even if he understood her he still would probably not have been listening closely. Being completely ignorant left him entirely off the hook. 

Ludo slapped him on the leg as they both laughed. “As all men should, ah?” 

Spartacus boarded and looked down upon them with judgmental gaze, in ways reminding him of how Onemaus would look upon him after a night of celebration in the wake of training. 

“We break for Sicilia and the promise of blood. It’s ill time for drink,” he said in lectured tone.

Gannicus smiled and turned his head with hand out innocently. “I but lend support to brother Ludo.” his words mildly slurred. 

Ludo nodded, his face having lost the jovial nature it had shortly before. “I fear the water, and the monsters within it,” he confessed. 

“All is being prepared for your voyage King Spartacus,” Heracelo said as he came dockside. “As agreed upon.” 

Spartacus turned from Ludo and Gannicus leaving them to their drink and Gannicus looked down at the jug as it was passed back to him and he shrugged and smiled. “I have had my fill.” 

Ludo shook his head. “I haven’t.” 

Gannicus’s eyes looked to the docks for familiar shadow. Flashing this way and that as he looked for her figure, silhouetted, or her wide eyes looking for his… but he found her not. The lack of shadowed pup at heel gave him an unease he did not wish to dwell upon. 

Looking back to Ludo he shook his head feeling disappointed. “Another drink.” he laughed as Ludo join him passing it back. 

—— 

Later upon ship full of wind Gannicus passed Saxa teasing Ludo with knotted rope as she toyed it at him as one would teas an old dog, or bait a kitten, but the man was neither. 

His feet, sure on any surface moved without falter on the deck of the ship as he went to the bow where Spartacus stood. 

“I have borne witness to many of your mad plans,” he said looking beyond the leader to the setting sun. “Never did I believe it would lead us across the seas,” he said resting his jug of wine on the railing of the ship. 

Spartacus looked deep in dark thought. “Last I found myself upon them, I was in chains,” he said not looking back. “Bound for Roman soil. My wife taken from me,” he said now his face pulling ferally. “A thing they shall eternally regret.” 

Gannicus blinked and looked to him now as he met his face. “Of that, I have no doubt.” Now his own eyes cast to the open sea. “Yet, of current intentions, my mind is of less certainty,” Gannicus said now giving voice to great concern which had driven him to more hesitation and seriousness than he was accustomed to. 

Spartacus had turned to listen as if he had gained trusted ear. 

“Crixus runs wild within the city, Crassus threatens growing storm without,” he warned. 

Spartacus now turned back to the sunset in thought but Gannicus continued voicing his thoughts to tongue. 

“Time ill-considered for assault towards wheat in Sicilia.” he reasoned. 

“Heracelo tells of shipments large in the gathering, intended for Marcus Crassus,” Spartacus explained. 

Gannicus frowned trying still to understand sense. They were hungry in Sinuessa, but the risk of Crixus taking over behind them did not add up. 

“I would sever blow to the man himself, not his purse,” he said confused about the value of the assault. 

Spartacus looked at him. “The food is meant to feed his army. Seizing it will aid in weakening it and force Crassus to desired path,” he explained more bluntly.

Gannicus smiled realizing his folly. All he knew of the man was Crassus was wealthy and had made his fortune in a variety of avenues, where he was just a man with a sword with a great appetite for drink, not vengeance. 

“Point well made.” He replied and lifted his jug to dull his mind for it seemed when put to think it was not as sharp as his blade or his cock. 

Spartacus frowned at his fellow brother in arms as he drank deeply of the jug of wine and looked at the act thoughtfully. 

“One that you would divine absent my words, were head not steeped in wine,” Spartacus suggested. 

Laughing Gannicus looked down. “A man must do what he can to brace against the shit of a simple day.” 

Spartacus still looked to him. “I hold you towards loftier esteem,” he said putting hand upon shoulder. “As would most loyal to our cause, if I were to fall.” 

Now that Crixus was so fallen from honorable purpose it was to Gannicus Spartacus looked and that responsibility fell upon shoulder like a boulder. 

“Know my thoughts toward the subject. I am no leader.” He said, trying to dissuade him. He never was. 

Spartacus disagreed. “You have proved yourself more one than Crixus when streets flow with unfortunates blood.” His face was cold and angry. 

“Had Naevia not put me to ground, I may have spilt the same,” he said seriously. 

Spartacus gazed at him appraisingly for a moment. “No,” he said finally. “You would not have.” 

Standing silent, unsure of the honest measure of opinion Spartacus held for him. He held no love for Romans. 

Before conversation could continue Saxa came from behind. 

“We come to land.” she said with a bright smile, “And blood of fucking Roman’s,” she said reaching for him and he complied reaching back with a distracted, playful smile. Saxa made him forget the seriousness of their journey. Just the spoils were remembered with her. 

Spartacus looked upon their gesture of passion with thought and as she left he stepped in. 

“Perhaps you will one day find reason closer to heart,” he said now meeting his eyes. “To assume deserved mantle.” 

Gannicus looked to the looming shore and setting sun. “And perhaps I will fall this very night, and leave you to weep with the other women,” he said with a jovial laugh that Spartacus did not share as he left him and his serious notions upon the bow of the ship.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have been expanding and adding in scenes that were not there. It has been so long so I am rusty in the style of speaking.

Sibyl heeded Gannicus and stayed from him, though it broke heart to do so. 

After he parted from the stables saying he would see his friend's memory honored he did not spare her a backward glance and nearly the moment he was gone his woman looked to her as if she would kill her. 

“Go.” she had commanded, then rattled off something indistinguishable and brandished the knife in her face bringing it to her eye. 

“No more warnings Little Thing,” she had whispered and then looked back to the Romans hidden in the floor. 

Sibyl nodded and ran from the place wondering if the woman would kill any of them now that Gannicus was gone, but she felt his woman would not. 

In the end, she had been unable to prevent the imbalance she saw in her dreams. She had been so sure that he could stop Crixus, and his woman, but he had not. 

Handing bread to one small clutch of survivors in Spartacus’s house she pondered how he could have been brought down and unable to stop them but tried not to think. Least nothing besides serving. It is what she was best at anyway. 

Gannicus had made it clear to her that he desired nothing to do with her and she would do her best to see to it she respected his dearest wishes. 

Trouble was, he inhabited both her waking thoughts and dreams. Some she believed were to come to pass and they filled her with dread. 

Looking to Leata she cast her gaze down shamed. 

“You must drink,” she said offering humble cup. 

Laeta blinked. “Ulpianus cannot drink, and he could, had you not exposed him.” she accused. 

Sibyl blinked sadly and did not meet the woman's gaze. She could not deny that she felt responsible in a measure for what befell all the Romans in the city. Sometimes her dreams could not be prevented and her actions actually lead to ultimate end. 

Seemed this time was such. 

“Apologies. My actions were exercised to save lives, not lead to the loss of them,” she said offering the cup again. 

“I will not drink,” she said turning her head. 

Sibyl frowned and blinked as she hesitated. “The only freedoms granted to me in this life have been sight and sound, and learned early to attend to that freedom.” Her voice was small. 

Laeta, curious, turned her head. 

“I saw everyone before and see them now. And hear too,” she confessed. “Many within the walls wished the Romans slaughtered. I thought if Gannicus were to know he could stop the trouble before it began.” 

Laeta scoffed and blinked taking the cup. “Spartacus has chosen to keep us captive, slaves now such as you once were. Iron upon wrist.” she shook her head. “But too many innocents have died now because of our actions,” she said now with a serious glint in her eye, indicating that she now owned her part in the deception and the unrest it led to and how many lives had been lost for it. 

Sibyl eyed the woman curiously. 

“It is wrong to lay blame upon feet. It was I that set events into chaotic motion.” Laeta whispered with regret. 

Sibyl shook her head. “Perhaps I had more selfish motivations of my own that conscious must contend with,” she said now reaching for a ripped scrap of bread and passed it to the woman’s soft, delicate hands and bowed her head in habit. 

Laeta watched her leave to attend to the other surviving Roman’s, but Sibyl did not now look back. She had burdens of guilt to manage with hard work. 

It was not long after dressing wounds, and nourishing stomach and spirit many of them stopped trembling. It helped that many of the warrior rebels had gone outside of the villa as well. As if there was a stirring in the streets. 

She looked out and could see Spartacus and Gannicus approach and she ducked out of sight so as not to be seen or noticed. 

“See the Romans from their chains,” Spartacus commanded. “They are to be freed.” 

Sibyl’s heart hammered as she worried this would come to a bad end but then she could see the relaxed expression on Gannicus’s brow and it calmed her. Pulling further from his treasured presence she abandoned the duties for it would seem they were no longer needed. 

She pressed past many loyal warriors to Spartacus and turned to the street to honor his wishes, but in her belly, it pulled back. If felt wrong, a sense in the gut she thought. 

——

Gannicus felt a sense of settlement after the meeting of Crixus and Spartacus where they strategized and used their rift to fool Crassus into thinking they could not work together. The plan just might work, he wondered if all players could be trusted to follow through. 

As he accompanied Spartacus to the docks he was without Saxa with him. He felt relieved at the space to think and ponder. If she was there she would just be eyeing him, pulling mind from serious purpose and he felt the instinct to focus at the moment. 

But another kept pulling thought and he looked to shadowed corner, and crowded street to find no sign of her. Thought of her however bought mind to more sober path. The wellbeing of the innocents within the city and clearer mind to purpose of strategic defense. 

The sobriety already seemed to affect. He could see the strange expression on Haracleo’s face as they approached with Sanus and a familiar awareness that he only felt in the arena or on the training field took over only it was not the thirst of blood or the thrill of looming honored death that fueled his insight. This time it was just a clearer mind. 

“You have had your fill of women and drink?” he asked mentioning the man's now willingness to man the ship. 

Haracleo shrugged. “I am a man of the sea, and cannot be long from it.” he excused himself. 

Gannicus did not feel satisfied with causal answer. Seemed almost too easily spoke, and Spartacus looked to him sharing measured glance. 

“If Castus ever awakes from drink, give word we shall return for him,” he said tactfully. The art of misdirecting their questions with his own continuation of the conversation in desired direction. 

Spartacus seemed convinced so Gannicus did not persist in questions. 

“Gratitude, for all you have done.” 

Haracleo shook his head. “None deserved.” he shook his head. “I am but for coin, and the weight of it in my hand,” he said convincingly. 

Smiling with trust Spartacus nodded. “And you shall have it upon return.” 

Gannicus felt entirely unconvinced, but he trusted Spartacus. 

“A glorious day for all.” Haracleo put out his arms dramatically and smiled. “Until such a time. King Spartacus.” 

Gannicus frowned thinking. “Tis a mad fucking plan.” he felt conflicted and laughed. “The sort I most favor.” 

Spartacus nodded. “Best make haste to pilfer and haul whatever can be stripped and taken from the city to aid in Crassus’s undoing upon the ridge.” 

Gannicus nodded. “I can see to that.” he nodded as they turned. 

Spartacus nodded. “My thanks,” 

——

He looked for her then, comforting himself that he did not see her. She must have been for the Ridge. he thought as he filled the back of a wagon. 

“All we could lay hands,” Saxa said handing off bows. “No more in city.” 

Nasier took the offering. “I pray we hold enough.” tone serious.   
Gannicus smiled. “I pray we hold enough wine.” He knew they were bound for cold climate and drink would help warm the blood. 

Naevia approached and he eyed her warily. 

“We forge journey towards new beginnings,” she said anxiously. “I would have one between us as well.” 

Gannicus frowned and continued to his duties but distracted and slowed with the conversation and thought to it. 

“Would you now?” he asked. His tone dark, and lacking in its usual playfulness. 

Naevia was impatient with his answer. “Your friend the blacksmith, though he forced my hand, I know now,” she struggled. “he did not deserve such a fate.” 

Gannicus closed the wooden lid holding metaled spearheads. “And your hand so forced when you made assault upon me?” 

Looking at him seriously Naevia did not blink. “Would you not have done the same, to protect one you love?” she asked looking to his back where Saxa stood. 

Gannicus laughed. “You are a true warrior now, Naevia.” 

Her eyes looked at him with unbridled petulance. 

“Lay hand upon me again for whatever reason, and I will treat you as one,” he warned as he turned from task. Saxa followed with a glare at the woman.


	6. Chapter 6

Frustrated to still see people moving in the streets he shouted. “Move to purpose and clear the streets!” his voice broke as Saxa walked with him.

Saxa stood beside and looked at him as she sheathed her blade. 

As refugees came he became exasperated beyond his measure. “Clear the streets!” 

Involuntarily his eyes followed a dark-haired girl wearing a blue dress and a side braid. his eyes followed looking to see if it was the young girl Sibyl. He knew it could not have been because she did not offer him a second glance. 

“See what delays Agron and Donar,” he told Saxa. “I would have leave of this fucking city,” he said looking about for more stragglers that kept him within the walls and in danger of the dark wave of Crassus’s army. 

Saxa smiled. “As would I.” she replied agreeably and reached for him in affection and passion which he tried to respond in kind but it felt but only brief distraction from task and weak shadow of what he usually felt. 

Perhaps it was just the serious turn of events of late that so effected his response. 

Seconds later they broke and he turned the corner from Saxa and found another straggling figure moving from the darkened street he forged toward. Familiar in form. 

“Gannicus” came the voice that upon first instinct made him turn to run but instead of cowardice he just checked to be sure Saxa was gone. 

“I thought you for the ridge,” he said irritated. 

She looked at him in earnest. “I did not wish to leave without words.” 

“Would that I could stop them.” Somehow when she was around he felt an invisible string, and no matter his wish to cut it, he feared its loss. 

She bewildered him. No woman had such effect on him besides Meletia but he had welcomed that emotion and it had doomed her. 

Her wide eyes looked at him in need and he stood rooted, impatient to hear her reason for approach and foolish delay of departure from dangerous city on brink of sacking. 

She took a deep summoning breath for courage and he braced himself. 

“Before you came to the city I prayed to the gods that they would deliver me from the hands of my dominus, and in you, my prayers were answered.” 

He nodded exasperated. “I have heard this tale before and found it equally misguided.” 

She looked at him earnestly. “I do not ask you to believe it to be true, only to accept that it is what I hold to heart.”

He had a hard time answering her statement but if it hurried her along to safety then he was willing to tell her what he must.

“Mmm….” he made a sound as he struggled with her honest and firm adherence to her faith in him. A faith he never shared and often found reason to tease those he loved, of their depth of conviction in such empty beliefs. 

“I accept it.” he nodded and blinked as if the words weighted tongue unnaturally. But if ilie were to get her from the city and him then so be it. “Now on your way,” he said encouraging their conversation to close. 

She launched herself into his arms before he could push her away and he awkwardly embraced her back feeling a strange compulsion to do so. Once there his world shifted and he felt cursed. She was everything he could never and should never deserve yet somehow felt tempted to desire again. Like that one night. He had believed it the effect of strong drink and her clean and perfect innocence…but now he wasn’t sure it was just that. 

“May the gods watch over you,” she whispered. 

Hugging into her longer than he should he momentarily enjoyed the gesture of her prayer.

“And you, if I cannot,” he said, voice thick with emotion.

If the city were not under siege he did suspect he was now entirely under a spell as he found himself leaning into her tender gesture that gave more meaning than anything he had received in years. 

Pulling back in disbelief that she was real he found her eyes. His gaze beheld hers a moment as their eyes met. Tears had filled them as if her heart was broken. How could she feel so much for him when she knew him so little? 

His breath caught as he felt that notion hit him just as her body moved from his now accepting embrace. 

He discovered that he was not ready for their parting and he looked to where she left to as she looked back at him as he did her. 

He chuckled thinking of being the focus of her prayers. The girl must have it all wrong. He wasn’t sent by the gods to save her, she was sent to tease him. 

That was if they even existed. 

——

Joining Spartacus he found him impatient. “Their return stretches hour,” he said. 

Gannicus followed close behind. “Cilicians are not known to be of such concerns,” he commented. “Nor of good manners, or of proper bath.” he finished under his breath. 

Haracleo stepped off his ship. “Apologies. The fates conspired towards unfortunate delay.” 

Spartacus surveyed the ship. “Where is Sanus?” he asked about his man. 

Haracleo eyed his captain who moved to the canvas covering as Haracleo looked back to answer. “Gone from this world.” 

Gannicus looked to Spartacus who was also now glancing to him. They both sensed the trap. 

Spartacus however was not ready to give into suspicion. 

“He fell to the Romans?” 

Haracleo nodded. “To their desires, and to the weight of more coin than even a king could offer.” just then he pulled back his robe exposing the seal that Crassus himself must have bestowed, and drew his weapon upon Spartacus as the tarp aboard ship was pulled back exposing a number of Roman soldiers smuggled dockside. 

Spartacus growled as Gannicus took number. They were far out-weighted. Most of their forces were for the ridge or the gate and scattered within city, not the dock. 

“Apologies brother, I do not wish you such an end,” Haracleo said likely in an effort to distract them. 

Just as he spoke the slave Lyciscus moved from darkened shadow with knife at Spartacus’s backside and Gannicus was the only who saw but was not fast enough to prevent the assault. 

His fist flew and slammed brutally into the man's face and just as swiftly he slipped the knife from Spartacus’s shoulder and pulled sword against the man. 

Twice he almost mortally hit the traitorous slave, but narrowly missed by a hair's breadth in an effort to regain control of this Trojan Horse and quell the Roman’s attempt at infiltrating the city before they could vacate it. 

The battle unfolded rapidly and soon the dock was overrun but they were mercifully joined by Crixus who had remembered past favors. 

As they made for the north gate they found more Romans within. After swiftly dispatching them Crixus looked about confused. 

“Where did fucking these appear from?” he asked confused at the breakdown of the city and their believed defenses. 

Agron ran from the other side of the city with Saxa and Donar. 

“The gates fallen. We have been betrayed.” Agron said quickly. 

Gannicus sighed. “Fuck.” 

Spartacus looked ashamed. “I stand eternal fool for laying trust in Haracleo.”

Agron spoke up energetically. “Haracleo? It was Lyciscus that turned upon us.” 

Saxa had gone to Gannicus and put her arm around him and he welcomed the short measure of comfort. If nothing but for her sake. Tonight seemed damned. 

“He stands fucking Roman,” she said in regards to Lyciscus from beside. 

Crixus looked murderous. “Fucking shit.” 

“That is why he aided the Cilician’s” Naevia suggested. 

Donar stood confused. “They have fucked us as well?” 

The cheers and sounds of slaughter all around echoed their looming doom. 

Agron looked concerned. “Where is Nasir?” he asked. 

“Dispatched with Ludo to call warning,” Spartacus answered. 

“I must find him,” Agron said desperately. 

Spartacus nodded. “Carry word to break for northern gate. We must see all that remain to safety of the ridge.” 

Crixus looked confused. “You would have us run?” 

Spartacus countered. “I would have us live.” 

“Then we must fight and make our stand here.” 

Spartacus stepped closer to speak sense. 

“Crassus has seized the moment. We are not prepared to face him in the streets.” he reasoned with the man. 

Gannicus listened to the two leaders of the rebellion squabble over what was to be done about the city they took refuge in being snatched from fucking grasp, and the thousands of slaves that were not warriors or fighters being put to death because of fucking ego. 

Sibyl could even be among them for they shared words mere moments before he joined with Spartacus upon the docks. The needed time bought, not a battle. 

Time to clear streets, even if it meant his assured death. 

No longer attending the details of leaders argument, he put recently sober mind to form plan. 

“I will cause distraction and gain needed time.” he felt it right that he die in aiding those of need to safety. To ensure the rebellion was strong with both of their leaders alive to bring them to promised freedom. That his friends would live.

It was a mad idea, but pressing needs out weighted measured strategy. 

“By what means?” Spartacus pressed him. 

He shook his head. “I have no fucking idea,” he said anxious to put purpose to path. He would form mission as he put feet to stone.

Spartacus eyed him, measuring him too valuable to sacrifice to madness. 

“No, move with the others. I will draw the Romans away-“ Spartacus tried to argue.

Gannicus spoke up at parting man. “This is not request!” he argued. “You lead these people. If you were to fall it would be fatal blow,” he explained his perspective. “My passing of lesser concern.” 

Saxa clung to him close. “Of concern to me,” she said tenderly. In that moment he was sure her feelings had developed and set to deep root and he in turn was aware that there was no depth besides affection and concern for her feelings where his were engaged. 

Regardless he would not be swayed from serious intent.

Spartacus looked at the man with new eyes. “Gannicus.” His voice pleading. 

A roman trumpet blared an alarming sound that distracted them all from troubling conversation.

“Go!” Gannicus said impatiently. “I will find you when it is done,” he said not really believing his words. 

The screams of dying slaves punctuated the need to move to purpose and Spartacus nodded to him in acceptance of sacrifice for the greater good. “We shall wait, as long as we are able to, brother.” 

He nodded. 

Crixus looked at him. “You mad fuck.” and bestowed tense smile on him. 

Saxa leaned into him and kissed him tenderly and without the violent forceful passion she normally exhibited. He mirrored if for he believed this night his last and the afterlife beyond. 

“Do not die,” she whispered. 

“Nor you,” he answered. “Go with them, quickly. Go.” 

She looked at him not wanting to follow orders. 

Once she was gone he found friend still stood in presence and wasn’t alone. 

“My passing would be of even lesser concern than yours.” Donar smiled. 

Gannicus smiled. “Stay close to heel. I would not greet this night our last.” He said rushing off on mad plan forming as faced.


	7. Chapter 7

Tossing the pitch pots he knew it was a folly plan but it was the only one he had. 

“Not much of a plan,” Donar said mirroring fucking thought. 

Gannicus was not willing to listen to complaint of stupid plan. “If you hold better one, break words.” 

“Gannicus.” came a familiar small voice. 

His heart stopped in fucking chest. What in Jupiter’ fuck was she here? The gods must be cursing him further this night to die with her. 

“Jupiter fuck me.” Donar echoed his thoughts again. 

She ran to him and threw her arms about his neck but he was too angry and impatient to pay heed to gesture or return it. He was too upset at seeing her within dangerous city walls where their fate of death may be shared. 

Pushing her roughly back he formed urgent question. “Why are you yet within the city?” he asked. 

She cried pitiful tears. “I was upon path to leave it when the Romans came. I did not know what to do.” 

Donar was at the door. “Gannicus,” he said urgently. 

He looked to face present circumstance and then back to burden. “Hold tears. Stay by my side, do not make a sound. Or see us all into the afterlife.” 

He watched her swallow her tears and nod to him obediently. 

Frustrated and angry he tossed torch upon fuel and flames engulfed the Hoerrum. He hoped would prove useful distraction. 

——

Sibyl followed at his elbow through the throng of moving bodies and clashing swords. From her place backed away as the fight grew she tried to make herself as small, and out of the way as possible. 

From there she watched the two men fight for life and limb and she noticed the change in him. Gannicus was absent carefree attitude. The thrill of the fight normally fed him and she had once relished the joy he felt in the fight, but tonight he was not filled with such emotion. It was in that moment that she knew he thought his days at an end. 

Pure rage filled him as his friend and warrior fell to Roman spear. She could see the pain in his eyes at seeing another brother fallen to outnumbered, and unskilled hand. 

She wondered why the gods gave her vivid dream of shadow and death following cherished hero if there was nothing that she could do to change the outcome. 

They were the reason she put foot to path, craving parting words with him, and so delaying her own departure, thereby tying cruel fate to his. She had but attempted to encourage the opposite end. 

Now Sibyl but wanted to offer solace to the defeat she found in the slump of her hero’s shoulders. 

“If I am to die,” her voice timid. He looked up at her as she spoke. “It lifts heart to share final moment with you.” 

He slightly shook his head. “Many have fallen this night.” he tossed the broken blade of his sword aside. “You shall not be among them.” 

She noticed the change in his face and the determination. He had made promise to her, and she trusted it. 

Just then she realized the gods put her on path to give him reason to keep fighting, otherwise had she not stood beside him just then he would have given in. 

Taking his offered hand she went with him, unsure where he would go but knowing she would follow him anywhere. 

She didn’t absorb any sight or sound save for his visage and breath. He looked down alleys and pushed her back against the wall to melt into shadow, shielded from sight. His hand upon belly or chest as he ensured her and him out of view. 

In those close moments, she memorized his scent, his rhythm of breath when he was afraid. His gentle, or firm touch. 

At moments his length entirely pressed against hers and her breath caught as did his. 

His face was centimeters from her a few times and their gazes held meaningfully and she questioned his thought with her eyes, but he never spoke. 

Finding feet once again he slipped her inside a place familiar to them both. It was the stables where Laeta had stashed the surviving clutch of Roman’s. 

Waving her down, he hoped the handful of hay he tossed above him would shield the hatch. Down below he observed the large space that sheltered the Roman survivors. 

Anxiously his eyes moved to Sibyl who hunched, leaning against the floor pillar and he went to her, wrapping his arm around small shoulders to quell her fearful shaking. 

It only increased when they heard footsteps above and words of search for surviving rebel slaves moments after. She buried her head into his chest lending prayer for them to see their way from this city and its walls. 

She also sent thanks to gods for this night with her hero, even if they were to die she was ever grateful. 

Those moments were terrifying in more ways than one. He found he too clung to her in similar fear. 

Their eyes meeting in the dim light. Her face just inches from his. His reflection met him in the pools of her eyes and put finger to mouth and pressed her head to chest. The act as comforting to him as to her. 

——

He pulled from her as he sensed her discomfort at the odd embrace now that the panic of the above Roman’s did not seem to sense the hidden space beneath just as they had not before with the captives. 

Now sitting more comfortably, both near with their backs against the same pillar, they listened as those above ransacking the space but were becoming less noisy. 

“They take leave.” Sibyl’s voice whispered. 

He turned his head. “Not all.” he looked down at stinging wound upon hand. “Thousands more swell in the streets.” he assessed that it was deep from the fighting in the street where he broke the sword. “The ones above spoke of victory, great numbers lost to us.” 

“Coupled with the curse that Spartacus yet eludes them.” Her bright tone coy and alluring in a quality he had never heard it take and it turned his head with intrigue. 

Of course, she thinks the leader blessed and Roman’s cursed, but it was them that were hiding in a dark hole. 

“He is a troublesome man to kill.” he looked down again at his injured hand, letting his guard down and showing injury. 

She noticed and went to rip at her dress. 

“I have attempted it myself upon occasion,” he said watching her and offering her his hand as she went confidently to care for it. 

She smiled and then met his sliding gaze. “The gods favor him.” she looked back to her work. “And bless us as well.” 

He was not moved by her faith. How could he from where they sat, licking fucking wounds? 

“They piss on us, and you welcome it as cooling rain,” he said marking flaw in logic. Or just daft perspective. 

She listened and sat unmoved. “We are alive because they yet guide your hand.” 

Her words flowed over him as he listened. 

“One I have faith will lead us from darkest hour.” her voice soft and comforting. 

She completed her tie off on his bandage made from her ripped slave dress as he took in her every detail, from the way her hair draped around her face and framed it, to the delicate curve of her neck and angled chin. He wanted to memorize every detail, not just image, but also comforting words. 

But her task came to an end with a single motion and his eyes dropped to her work. He looked at the tender care she took to skillfully dress his wound and felt true regret that he did not share her faith. 

“Would that I shared the same.” he meant every word. “You have done this before,” he said observing it to be well done. 

She nodded as she settled back into her previous place. 

“My Dominus inflicted many wounds upon his slaves. I often tended their injuries,” she said wiping her blood stained legs nervously. 

He looked down in thought imagining her bloodied and bruised and wondered if anyone tended her thus. 

“Who tended yours?” he ventured fearful question and when she grew silent he assumed truth, imaging that she had a man. 

“Diotimus showed a kindness.” She said finally in tender reflection of a dearest friend. 

Smiling tensely he thought of Diotimus and her in warm tender embrace and he was irritated by the vision, jealous of the man even. Perhaps the girl was not as innocent as he once thought. 

“Did he now?” he said ruefully. 

“He stood as a brother to me,” she said, her voice filled with honest conviction as their gazes looked away from one another. 

His eyes lifted in surprise that his judgment proved wrong, but believed her word without question.

“Apologies,” he said feeling shame to imagine her in warm embrace with anyone besides himself as they shared that very night before all went to shit when she wished the gods to look over him, and he the same to her. 

She turned as did he and caught his gaze. The color of her eyes dark green held his own. “You struck down the man that took his life,” she said earnestly. “The man that took my own a small piece at a time over a span of years.” 

He had heard that her dominus, Laurus was one of the most brutal of men. To think someone so delicate, and innocent as Sibyl had been in his clutches for years set his jaw tight. 

He found his gaze wandering her length in thought and he redirected it up above them.

“Would that it had made difference,” he said feeling regret for her sad short life but trying not to feel the depth of intimacy blossoming inside of him. The desire to have enjoyed the slaying of the man more suddenly consumed him. Before he had just been another Roman…Now, if he could but do it again he would have taken more satisfaction in it. 

“You have made all in the world.” 

Her tender words caught his ear and brought his eyes back to hers. Sentiments assuring him that to her, his life of shit and suffering, of blood and sand, of applause followed with death and all that brought him shame and drove him to sex and oblivion… all of it had been worth it to her. For what he had done in killing the man who had hurt her. 

She turned from him, cutting off protest if he could have formed any. 

He sat staring at the side of her face for a moment after the statement of heart. 

Breathing deeply he noticed how she laid her head on her knees. “Sleep,” he said quietly. 

She shook her head. “I am at ease enough,” she replied with a gentle yawn. 

He shook his head. “We may need to run. Stolen hours of sleep may mean life or death.” 

She nodded. “Then you sleep.” she offered. 

He offered a tense smile. “I am trained for long hours.” he looked to her droopy eyes and fought the urge to touch her cheek. “You look not thus trained.” 

She sighed and leaned down and nodded. “I will offer no further protest.” She closed her eyes and he let his own roam her body. She was not a child as he once claimed. He knew that all along, but it was forced lie, to convince self as much as Saxa. 

He searched for scars and obvious sign of injury on her visible body, but he only saw dirt and blood stained perfection. 

Leaning his head against the pillar he sighed regretfully that her life may end tonight, as with his. All the experiences she would never have as a free woman. 

Hours passed as he drank in her sleeping form. And despite his lack of faith, he tried his hand at prayer to gods. Entreating their lofty whims for mercy and them to find safe harbor from city wall and hope of future victories and freedom from the Republic of Rome. 

He also chose for the first time to thank the gods he often doubted for the blessings he now realized, if but for the moment… He had reason to fight and she lay at his feet. If he did not survive, maybe he could ensure she did.

He noticed Sibyl’s troubled sleep and he wished to reach for her. To hold her within protective embrace, but she wasn’t making a sound. And none had come back to the stables yet so he instead watched her tortured dreams and frowned wishing to ease her. 

Unable to resist, his tended hand reached for her chin and he stroked her jaw carefully. 

“You are safe,” he whispered but did not risk anything further action. 

Her breath stilled and slowed, and the worry on her face eased as she seemed to respond to his voice in sleep but he dared not risk disturbing her further. 

Hours later he heard soldiers return, and this time they pried at floorboards. He noticed she stirred again from dark dream and regretfully covered her mouth and she looked up at him fearful. 

“More soldiers return.” he lifted his hand from her slowly. “They pry wood and beams searching for vermin.” 

Looking down at her, other thoughts came to mind and his eyes flitted away from hers. 

“If we stay, will they not find us?” she asked still laying below him. “Is there nothing we can do?” she asked. 

He looked down as if struck by an idea.

“There is but one thing.” he looked up then down again to her. “Pray.” 

He helped her to position and he crawled to strategic position to strike and nodded to her to do as suggested. 

She started to pray and he tried to track the footsteps above for when they noticed her. 

The hatch opened and a disgusting Roman laughed when he took in Sibyl’s frightened form. Taking advantage he grabbed the man by the front and yanked him down and promptly dispatched him to the afterlife. 

Handing her the knife he spoke. “If any but my visage return, take your life,” he said. “It will be a kindness in comparison to what they would do to you,” he said thinking of her body enduring such pain again. 

She took it from him. He looked at her hoping it was not his last. 

Above there were only five, but there were seasoned warriors and he feared they would be too loud and call others upon them. But fate, or the gods interveined in their confidence that they could take him. As he opened the hatch and found her blade against small throat, he smiled widely as he saw she was ready to do as he commanded. 

“I begin to believe in your gods.” he swallowed with a smile. “Let's see how far they can take us.” He held out his hand to disbelieving in their luck.


	8. Chapter 8

Finding themselves on rooftop Gannicus and Sibyl were better able to survey their situation in regards to escape, and the situation was dire. 

“The streets are too swollen.” He said quietly, keeping low so as not to cause notice. The gods could not take them far enough to city wall. Only just beyond the stable. “The rooftops alone will not carry us free of the city,” he said. 

Sibyl was watching intently to people and faces milling about below. “Gannicus.” her voice a mere whisper. He did not even need to look at her to gauge her meaning. 

Watching Heracleo be halted by Roman guards enraged him. “That traitor yet lives.” 

As if a sign from the gods the man showed a round medallion signifying his right to roam the streets free of molestation, commanded from Crassus himself. 

A sign from the gods? 

Forming plan within mind they observed the guards allowing him to pass and they both moved to follow the pirate from lofty perch.  
——

Gannicus walked inside the place Attius once worked and plied his lucrative trade. 

“That is the worst of it, my love,” Heracleo said to the woman he brought with him.

Gannicus passed through the tattered curtain Sibyl at heel. “I do not believe it so,” he said, countering the words Heracleo said. 

Both of them now could see the woman was Leata. 

“Lifts spirit to see you alive my friend.” The pirate leader said turning to face him. His tongue sharp as he stalled Gannicus in attacking. 

“And yet my brothers did not fare as well.” 

“An act born of necessity, and raised with a heavy heart,” Heracleo said sympathetically. “I much liked King Spartacus and his companions. Well, most of them. Yet I was given no choice between a wealthy life, or die a merciless death. Which to a man of my sort is no choice at all. I know what thoughts pass through mind, that we are but shit-eating Cilicians. No match for a god of the arena.” he reasoned.

Gannicus smiled and shook his head a fraction. 

“Perhaps this is true my friend.” He tried to use his tongue on him, but Gannicus was of clear mind and focused purpose. “Perhaps my sword will find your woman’s throat before I fall. Which I think, you must appreciate in such a delicate situation.” the vile man finished his threat.

Gannicus smiled and shook his head. “She is not my woman.” he countered in regards to Sibyl who still stood close to heel. Heracleo thought the girl meant more to him than she did. 

Taking the confused opportunity that his statement caused upon Heracleo, one of his men moved thinking it a good opportunity, but Gannicus was ready, and he was all too easy of a kill as he thrust him aside to be ready for the next man to come. 

The next had more skill, and the third came with him so it was harder still to fight two at once. Furthermore, there were more men than that in the room. 

Heracleo himself came to attempt assault but he was easy enough to disarm. 

Once Heracleo was without weapon the last of his men who had been holding Laeta released her to join in the altercation, and she moved to purpose. 

Sibyl tried to stay out of the way but as Heracleo warned he might make it to her she watched him crawl from the floor and stalked to her. 

Looking around she searched for weapon to defend herself from attack but all she found was shackles. The very thing that once bound her. 

Throwing them hard she managed to hit him across face but it was not enough to stop the man with murderous intent. 

He had again found sword from a fallen comrade and was brandishing it at her and she again swiped at him with the shackled chains but they wrapped around the blade, uselessly. Her face fell in fear while Gannicus worked to finish the last man off of Heracleo’s crew. 

Heracleo backhanded Sibyl hard and she flew backward and to the ground as Gannicus realized she was in danger. 

“Sibyl!” His chest felt like it was crushing. 

Hauling her roughly to her feet Heracleo looked triumphant. 

“Oh so you do care for the little one eh?” he crowed said with satisfaction. “well it's too bad now that you have killed her.” his blade was harshly against her small vulnerable throat. 

He had watched too many women gasping for air and covered in blood. He looked to her helplessly. “No!” he shouted in demanding plea.

As if by miracle a squshing sounded, then the expression of surprise and pain on the pirate and not Sibyl’s throat being slit. 

Gannicus noted the branding poker and that it was protruding through his throat and that he grasped at a metal bar confused and in pain. 

Looking to Leata as if she were the hand of the gods, he could not form word. He recalled moment before when he nearly watched Sibyl die before him and in his relief, he threw his arms around her and she responded in kind. 

“You are hurt?” he said pulling away a moment later. “We must move quickly before we are discovered.” 

He wished more time to check injuries but there was none. He pulled from her once satisfied none were serious and looked to take cloak and conceal image from the men he had killed while Sibyl moved to check that none had heard their commotion. 

Laeta whimpered and cried as she leaned against the wall clutching her branded arm. 

“What of Laeta?” she asked Gannicus as he pulled Heacleo’s cloak from him. 

Lifting head from task, breathlessly he was confused. “What of her?” 

Always of tender heart Sibyl hesitated. “We cannot leave her.” 

Gannicus looked back down dismissively. “She stands Roman. She won't be seen with us.” 

Sibyl looked at the woman with sadness as Laeta looked heartbroken as she looked at her fresh brand. 

“I stand nothing but a slave,” she said with serious conviction as Gannicus’s eyes rose to meet hers. “As you once did.” 

His eyes fell to the hard brand. Not even the attractive brand of a higher ranking slave which was a tattoo. Her’s was a branding like he and all his brothers bore. Crude, and harsh, and without any respect to her tender flesh. 

Sibyl was right. They could not leave her. 

——

Putting Heracleo’s cloak upon back and seal exposed on chest he had a weak disguise. It might be enough to get closer to the north gate. It may be enough to get Sibyl closer to freedom he realized as they moved through the streets undeterred. 

He heard screaming and cheering and wondered if the easy movement had something to do with a spectacle. 

Seeing two Roman soldiers approach he stooped to seem shorter and moved back to give way and the women did the same. Once safely past he pulled back hood a little. 

“They hold celebration?” he asked Laeta. 

“Executions.” Laeta corrected. “For those among you yet of this world,” she replied. 

Gannicus seethed as he heard sword clash. “I will have blood in their name upon a day.” 

Laeta looked fearful. “Stay to the alleys and lesser streets as I guide. And perhaps live to see it so,” she warned him to cool temper. 

With her help to guide soon, they were near the north gate and he spotted two horses and thought again it might be divinity. 

Laeta sighed heavily with disappointment. “We will not make it.” 

He however was not yet convinced. “Can you ride?” he asked. 

She looked on to the subject. Two saddled and prepared horses. “I have seen it done.” but her voice lacked confidence.” 

Gannicus handed her the rope lead he had used to make it look like he had been leading two slaves through the city as he turned. “Stay close. We will not turn back for you,” he said speaking of him and Sibyl. 

Every step felt weighted and time seemed to slow but they inched closer to freedom as more soldiers passed. Just as he thought they might make it, an infuriatingly familiar face rounded corner. 

Looking down he willed himself to refrain from the easy kill he would be but it would alert all of Sinuessa, and they still might pass unseen, and unnoticed. But all hope of that evaporated with two words. 

“You there,” Gaius said simply.

The words brought all three to a frozen halt but none turned. 

“I thought Heracleo granted but one woman.” He asked confused at the second. “Where did he come by this one,” he noted the prettiness of her face and her delicate features, but she was no rose bloom of the Roman Empire which was more Heracleo’s taste. 

Unable to fold farce Gannicus threw back hood with a turn and brandished sword with a swift kick to Ceasar's gut which seemed to affect the man more than expected. 

“Go!” Gannicus shouted as he engaged in nearly singular combat as the other soldiers did not seem to want to engage him in such narrow quarter combat, but the one that did attempt dropped just as quickly as he joined and it was back to just him and Caesar. 

Cutting him across his armored gut the man cried out in pain and dropped but his men just pushed forward and formed a protective wall around him before a chance to finish him off. 

Frustrated he hammered at the shields before he went to the fire grate which lit the streets at night and kicked it over to impede their attempt at immediate follow. The embers and flames engulfing the ground just enough to stop them for a time to join the women. 

Sibyl had waited for him and he climbed up first and pulled her up behind him. 

Kicking the horse he commanded. “Hiyaa!” he shouted and the two horses galloped down the narrow street. 

Laeta who knew nothing of riding could but only hang on for her life as she followed Gannicus and Sibyl as they were now being attacked and pursued through the narrow street in effort to stop their flee. 

They were near as he rounded a corner to find ten with spear and shield blocking their window to freedom beyond the city. 

He did not slow, instead he increased speed and sliced his way through six before Laeta took a spear to her gut. He took down as many more as he could, lastly rearing the horse up and stomping the life out of the final one at the gate and the likely man who had stabbed Laeta. 

Their path cleared both looked back to Caesar and Gannicus reached down, plucking seal from chest. Throwing back the betrayal in the man's face with a triumphant smile. 

——

Moving along the chilly pass he had given Heracleo’s cloak to Sibyl who had not refused the gesture as he shrugged it from his shoulders. 

“I have more under the skin to warm me,” he said as he felt her teeth chatter at his back. He also thought with her clinging to him she warmed him enough and with wine forever in his veins he was not at death's door with chill. 

There was no time to look behind him but he tried to help throw it over her and wrap it around her shoulders without her falling off. 

“Careful now,” he whispered as she wobbled. 

Laeta shivered and clutched at her side, but he showed more concern for Sibyl. 

“We shall reach camp soon. They will not be terribly far,” he assured them. “Best keep up.” He looked to the former Roman woman turned slave. “You must keep up.” 

She nodded and gasped. 

Soon they spotted campfires and he smelled the smoke on the wind. They were close. 

As they came into camp Sibly was helped from horseback and he came down last as the group looked on in disbelief. As if they were but shadows. 

Saxa ran to him and threw her arms around his neck before he even knew she was there. He smiled as he accepted the gesture as well as the gentle peck she gave him but he stepped and wobbled aside. Long enough on horseback did not make him feel sure of footing as he now faced Spartacus. 

“And I believed myself a difficult man to kill.” He said with a pleased expression. 

Gannicus laughed and their hands grasped forearm and met in their brotherly greeting before embracing with laughter. 

Saxa noticed Little Thing stood by and her smile dropped to a frown. 

“Spartacus,” Nasir shouted, drawing Laeta’s horse near. She barely hung on and her injuries gravely pained her. 

Gannicus stood by watching Spartacus pull former Roman into arms and cradle her as Saxa hung on him. 

“You bring us a prisoner?” Naevia asked. 

Gannicus met her eyes coldly. “Laeta now stands as you or I, neath heel of Republic,” he said bitterly. 

Nasir had been looking her over. “She may yet live, if her wounds are tended,” he said as her head rolled back. 

Spartacus nodded. “See it done.” he looked up. “Ludo,” he said the man's name to as to hand Laeta off to him to carry. 

Gannicus had his back to Saxa. He felt distant from her. 

“It is a miracle any of us before you yet draw breath,” he said seriously as his eyes tracked meaningfully to Sibyl. “The gods themselves must have taken note of delivered prayer, in order to see us from certain end.” he liked the smile on her face that seemed to bloom slightly as he spoke of the gods and miracles.   
Spartacus stepped close, his mood dark. “I fear they have but delayed it.” 

Gannicus glanced to Sibyl and then to Spartacus again and shook his head. “What stands in path now?” 

Spartacus nodded. “Come, obstacle is not far.” 

The two of them moved through the sad camp of refugees to the very edge only to find a solid wall. 

“How is such a thing possible?” Gannicus asked in awed confusion. 

Spartacus spoke loudly. “Nothing is beyond reach of the richest man in the Republic.” 

Gannicus looked on in disgust. “Crassus.”

“It was always his intention to trap us upon this ridge,” Spartacus said with rage. “He will march from the city with his armies behind us. And when he comes, death will follow in his wake.” his voice was fierce. 

Blinking Gannicus looked back to the seemingly doomed encampment and he felt thirsty for wine and a foggy head. The gods seemed to play games and he was tired.


	9. Chapter 9

Their failed attempt at testing weakness upon the wall was an utter disaster and proven useless waste of lives they still so needed. Their misused flesh and bones piled the base of the trench that preceded the massive fortified wall Crassus had commissioned as the rebellion's dead end. The funneled trap laid for their coordinated demise. 

Gannicus could not deny his desire to drown himself in his weight of wine but he did not like this sense of being cornered and kept him sobered thus far. 

Memory of dark eyes in narrowed street on the night of the fall of Sinuessa to Crassus and his promise to them echoed as did the other promise to watch over her. 

He wished to see the people truly free. The innocents of this mad rebellion beyond the danger spartacus had mired them all in. 

And within hours of last attempted assault, the gods pissed and shit upon them again when more movement was spotted upon the pass below. 

Boxed in tighter than ever he shook his head with a sigh as fine snow swirled around them. 

He had not even had a proper night's sleep, for he was concerned with the strategy of attempting assault upon the wall, which had not gone well. 

The only grace was as Spartacus said, the military men that marched forth seemed to not take battle formation. 

A was common habit the leaders argued over proper approach. Crixus favored the reckless and more direct attack while Spartacus favored tactical inaction. But both seemed to be equally ineffective. 

Gannicus had thought all lost in Sinuessa, many times. But Sibyl had never lost faith in him or in the gods. 

Moving back to camp Gannicus moved through the pathetic shelter that lined the other more substantial tents reserved for the warriors that required better accommodation. 

“Storm is coming,” he said looking up. He looked to Saxa and found her even bracing against the chill. Her arms wrapped around herself and he put his arm around her. “And with it, death upon frozen wind.” he prophecized. He was worried for the people set about outside were overly exposed.

Saxa looked unconcerned. “Storm certain, yes… yet not its hour,” she said playfully pulling his mouth to hers. 

He was not as inclined and moved away impatiently. “You would move to fuck, with Rome's might breathing upon our necks?” 

Saxa flushed with want. “If I for afterlife, I take memory of your cock inside me.” she kissed him again but just a peck as she again pulled him. 

It had been many nights since the last fuck when Sibyl had been presented to him and he had rejected her. When he had taken Saxa thrice to forget the offering he passed over. 

He followed Saxa like a dog but he looked behind for Sibyl, his own pup to heel. 

He had not forgotten her, and it did not feel right to move to such activity at such a time, or in sight of her, whom evoked such unusual feelings from within.

It felt a strange betrayal. But whom was he betraying? The rebellion, the innocents, her, the gods, or just himself? 

Directly his eyes found her just sitting within sight of his tent and the light flashed strikingly across her face and he felt as if the goddess Juno herself had turned his head to the right path and he stopped as revelation formed recognizable shape within mind. 

Sibyl’s words still echoed through his head as faith more firmly molded. 

“We are alive because they yet guide your hand. One I have faith will lead us from darkest hour.” she had once said. 

Saxa still grasped his leathers and he stopped her short of their tent. If he followed he would reject the guidance he now sensed from divine reaches. 

“Let us turn thought from ourselves, and see them towards deeper needs,” he said with a seriousness that he struggled to say upon first utterance. 

“Your words sound as Spartacus.” Saxa challenged. 

Gannicus nodded. “They are my own. Heed them as you will,” he replied as he backed away from her with an awkward reluctance and he glanced to Sibyl and kept troubling thoughts to himself. 

Where once there was an endless thirst for wine, found suddenly left with an ache for water and cleansing restoration.

Her eyes met his as he passed but he did not tarry, allowing the gods to steer his fate. 

——

Having left Saxa and the offered fuck allowed him opportunity to attend important meeting, upon small crested hill, overlooking hurried and occupied soldiers preparing for spectacle. 

Agron looked livid. “Crassus erects pulvinus, as we fight for his entertainment upon snow of fucking arena?”

Gannicus glared across the vast field that was intended ground of battle and the grand pulvinus being erected presently. A royal elevated box the honored and elite could find comfort and view the carnage and suffering below a safe distance, but yet a prime view of all that could be seen. 

Crassus seemed to think he was to come for pleasure, and that did not give Gannicus satisfaction in challenge. No, it enraged him. Innocent women and children sat, fearful and cold behind them, and prayed Spartacus, and their small group could find path to salvation. 

“Then he shall behold what miracles of blood a gladiator is yet capable of,” Crixus said with deep conviction. 

“You speak as though all stand so,” Gannicus said thinking of Sibyl and how he could not imagine her spilling blood to perform such miracle as they were trained to. 

Crixus leaned on their barrier. “The ways of us do,” he said simply. “Passed on from our very hands.” 

Agron looked at the might of the empire preparing for their demise. “Too few to make difference against hordes we are pressed between,” he argued. 

Spartacus seemed to be in thought. His eyes trained upon target. 

“Crixus is not wrong in his belief.” Spartacus interrupted potential conflict. “We have done the impossible, time upon time.” he turned grimly. “Yet by inspired tactic, not brute force.” 

Crixus sensed a bridge and moved to cross. “What are the lay of your thoughts?”

Spartacus turned back to look at the enemy's actions to glean what he could read of them. 

“Crassus has become overly bold by advantage he holds.” his gaze pierced the blizzard that built around them. “He placed his praetorium forward of proper position, to better view anticipated victory. Perhaps we should pay visit and explain fatal error.” 

Gannicus looked upon the structure now almost entirely built and tried to find sense in the act. The man, Crassus had anticipated all their moves up to that point. Would such a man so easily misstep now? 

Agron shook his head. “Does not closer position suggest heavier guard surrounding the praetorium?” 

Spartacus turned. “Wind grows restless in advance of storm. By night's fall, it shall serve as cloak if our number is not swollen beyond intent.” 

Crixus lifted his head. “How many?” 

“Only the most skilled among us. We must strike as the serpent, fast and sure,” he explained reason. “If Crassus falls to our venom his legions will froth and foam absent proper command.” 

Gannicus recalled previous foes. “A plan well served against Cossinius and Furius.” But they had not the acumen that Crassus seemed to possess he countered in his head almost as soon as he spoke. 

However Crixus cut him off. “You would send a sleeping man to the afterlife when he could awaken to a nightmare,” he said in disbelief. “A sea of death, as our entire army crashes down upon him.” 

Spartacus clenched his jaw irritably. “Such a force would be discovered in advance of purpose, and advantage lost. A thing a child could see.” his words fell from mouth and he looked at Crixus as if surprised at his unguarded words. 

“You would brand me as such?” he asked. 

Feeling the gravity of his own misstep Spartacus bowed his head. “Words foolishly chosen, brother,” he said apologetically. “Stay by my side, and when Crassus falls from this world we shall see his legions swiftly follow.” 

Crixus looked beyond as if undecided. 

Gannicus however could not quell the unease he felt and looked back to the camp. Little time to prepare before nightfall and he was sure he needed to be granted a moment to sleep before attempt.

“We should all go back to camp, assemble a small group and break plan to them.” He paused. “Eat well. Perhaps sleep.” he looked to Gannicus. “I know there are those that stand among us that have not taken measure to seek proper rest. I would have in fighting state upon cover of darkness.” 

Gannicus nodded and turned as he made his way to camp and filled his stomach, leaving Spartacus to handle the logistics as he made journey to his tent. Hesitating at the flap he looked to where Sibyl had been sat. She no longer sat sheltering near and he looked down the line concerned but cast the thought from mind. He needed to protect her with his sword arm. Not his warmth. He thought with a disgusted blink as he fell upon fur.  
—— 

They came out of the darkness and made it to the praetorium easily enough only to find that had been the trap all along. But Crassus too had been surprised. He had anticipated a battle plan more like Crixus suggested and not as Spartacus had contrived. 

They found not Crassus asleep in the grand tent, but the hung body of Donar. 

“What is carved upon his flesh?” Crixus asked in horror.

“Death is undeceivable,” Spartacus said with equal shock only his keener for he could now see another ruse upon them. “Come, we must away from this place before we are found paying respect.” 

Gannicus nodded to his fallen friend and comrade who stood with him in Sinuessa before turning and holding rear. Not yet dwelling on thoughts held before attempted attack. Thoughts that almost stayed hand, and held feet to ground before ill-fated assault which led them to seeming trap.

As they tried to slip out unseen they found it to be exactly as they feared. Ranks moved to close them in and they were still vastly outnumbered. 

They had still managed to surprise them and this must have been why they had all been fortunate enough to escape with only Naevia taking serious injury to leg as she was carried from field of battle upon Spartacus’s back. 

A single Roman’s taunt of cowardice, shouted boldly in their direction gave Crixus cause to pull from their retreat and he met them alone, slaughtering them all in vengeance of the woman he loved. 

Gannicus was sure he would have kept fighting as a whole regiment moved from higher ground upon them. 

“Crixus!” but Spartacus called him back. 

Looking at the camp as they approached he saw the look of the faces of some of the people. The hope. 

He had none to give. 

Looking to the pitcher on the nearest propped-up, makeshift table he sniffed it to find wine and he guzzled it in frustration. 

If the gods were to guide him, and their rebellion they sure seemed to want them to fail this night as storm seemed to increase with intensity. 

He looked around for his scrap of faith but saw her not. 

Saxa spared him a concerned look but seemed to regard him with more relief to see him as used to. With pitcher in hand, but this time his expression was not light of heart. 

The wine entered his system and he felt dizzying relief and he took another but as he gulped again with desperation the wind grew angry and it stung where it nipped at his bare skin where exposed. 

“Gannicus,” Saxa whispered as she approached. “Come, weather forces pause. Let us to shelter,” she said. “Perhaps, even share quiet moment,” she said with tentative hope. 

He shook his head. “No…” he answered. “Many are still exposed, and storm approaches.” he breathed deep and looked at jug only one-quarter drunk, and set it aside with conflicting thoughts. “I must see to them, as does Spartacus.” 

“So you would seek to be as Spartacus?” she frowned, almost a glare. “Words not your own, now actions…” she shook her head and muttered in her mother tongue before she turned and walked from him. 

He looked down. Shoulders down defeated but as he looked at the pitcher and the icy wine inside which chilled him before it warmed he frowned. 

“One I have faith will see us from darkest hour.” he blinked as her words ghosted across his mind.

Oh, fuck Juno and her hand in this, he thought putting the pitcher aside as he went to cling to threads of hope and moved to purpose. 

——

The gods and his feet lead to murderous leaders and Gannicus and Agron moved swiftly to put halt to the conflict before one of them killed the other. 

Gannicus held Spartacus as Agron stood between Crixus and him. 

“Have you fallen from fucking reason?” he shouted. There was a large gathering observing the fight and no doubt would cause further rift or divide if left unresolved. 

Crixus looked hardened. “A question better posed to your leader,” he said with gesture and bloodied teeth as he backed away to leave. 

Spartacus moved, still enraged by word and action of the man. 

“Crixus!” he growled. 

“Now is not the time for quarrel.” Agron stopped him. “Medicus tent has been struck by rising winds.”

Gannicus now had to shout above howling wind. “Storm approaches! See those exposed to shelter!” he said wishing to go back to what he had been moving to do when he had come upon the fight. Something he would not have been able to do if he had been deep in the pitcher of wine. 

They all ran to task as the sound of the rush of air was all that filled their ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in this I felt like writing in the perspective that Gannicus imagines or grows to believe he sense's the goddess Juno's hand in bringing Sibyl into his life, and if you know much about Juno....It like...really fits. Lol.


	10. Chapter 10

Gannicus moved through the people and tried to direct groups to huddle closer together to make room for more. He even made pains to pass his tent multiple times in an effort to put eyes upon shadow. But somehow shadow had fled and he felt the guiding hand of Juno whisper he must find her. 

Or was it his own heart now? 

His neck had started to hurt as he looked this way and that, but everyone had blankets around their heads and he could not make out image. He knew Heracleo’s cloak and he could not find it among the people around him. 

Covering his face he looked beyond the edge of their camp. He had gone through it twice, even going so far as to ask if anyone had seen her, and none seemed to know where she had gone. Or in many cases had no idea who she was. 

It was then he recalled a cropping of rocks that some had dedicated to the fallen of Sinuessa and of those dead in the battles to take the trench and wall. He wondered if she had gone there. 

He did not have much time before he would be unable to see in front of him. He had no time to let anyone know where he had gone either. Bracing himself against harsh cold he forged forward to find her before she would be taken from this life upon frozen wind. 

——

Sibyl had been upon her knees praying to the gods all morning. She knew Spartacus planned a small battle the night before and it had proved bitter dissappointment to all who had fought and upon their somber return. Crixus was now more unpredictable than ever with cherished one so hurt. 

He acted as a wounded animal. 

Sibyl did not wait to find Gannicus, to share final word for he did not share any with her before battles or since Sinuessa. Today would be her last she thought with a tightness in her throat. 

In preperation she fasted with her fellow devotees and made the solmn walk to their holy place they had for themselves upon the small hill, out of range of the trench and wall and a long walk from the camp.

Their chants and prayers floated on chaotic winds to the heavens she prayed would only hasten the messages journey. 

She felt the wind blow too harshly and knew it would steal life soon. 

Taking her blade with chilled hand she knew her time was near. It was too cold. 

With resolve and determination she sliced her palm up to her wrist. The opposite one he had sacraficed to protect her that night in Sinuessa. 

The act spilled a splat of cooled blood upon her carved icon of Jupiter as she initiated the pledge of her life to the cause of Spartacus, for her hero Gannicus, and everyone else to find clear path beyond trench and wall. 

“With this blood,” she shivered weakly. “we humbly entreat…” 

Feeling dizzy from the cold, or the blood loss she fell over to the side and could not complete the ritual. 

She thought she was already dead when Gannicus was above her. 

“Why do you not go with the others?” he asked, his tone seemed angry. 

“I must give offering…” she said weakly as her fellow devotees looked on now in distracted interest. “The gods shall reveal path.” she said with conviction. 

Frustrated Gannicus looked to her legs and moved to scoop her into arms. 

“They reveal only your death, if you remain on bended knee.” he warned her. The thought brought him more discomfort than he wished to dwell upon as he hefted her body into his arms. 

Though she was light she did not have the strength to wrap her arms around him. 

“Seek shelter!” he shouted to the others who sat at prayer. “Or greet your gods upon the shores of the afterlife.” he cautioned. 

Turning from the mound he soon found himself lost in the whiteout of the blizzard. He wasn’t even sure he was walking in the direction of the camp anymore and he looked about for anything recognizable and noticed an overturned cart. 

Looking down to the bundle in his arms their eyes meeting briefly conveying their agreement to difficult choice. 

Turning his step he moved to it. 

Setting her upon her feet a moment she braced herself on the upturned cart as he laid out torn fabric to sit upon as opposed to the harsh cold snow directly and he shoved up the snow to make a wall on two sides to protect them further atleast on two sides. 

Welcoming her in he took her hand and she collapsed in his arms clumsily and he did not complain. 

“Apologies.” she whispered as her injured hand was cradled. 

Gannicus ripped a small strip from his cloth as she had the night they were in Sinuessa and took the wound on her wrist and looked at it surprised at the depth of her cut. She could bleed out and he started to tend to her wound as she had done for him the time before. Only looking out to but glance at the weather. He was concerned that even in their meager shelter, they could still freeze. 

“We again find ourselves in pressing spaces. Dressing wounds and praying the afterlife does not take us.” He marveled.

“You pray now, do you?” she smiled almost in disbelief.

“Upon many things.” He looked at her in the eye, “Though I am not so dim of mind to kneel in storm.” He chided. “Raised voice to the Heavens.” His gaze focused. “Or spilt my own blood in its offering.” He finished tying her bandage. 

His tone was frustrated. Just a short while before he could not imagine her ever being able to shed blood for the cause. Not because she was weak, but because she was innocent. Perhaps she was just foolish.

“It stood as sacrifice for Spartacus.” She attempted to explain, wishing he did not really see in such negative light. She would lay down her life for Spartacus and Gannicus. But she was no soldier, it was the only way she knew to contribute. 

Gannicus felt slight jealousy that she would be risking her life for Spartacus. “You believe him a god now?” he said sharply.

“It was made on his behalf. To plead for his cause, and all who are devoted to it.” She said meaningfully. 

Gannicus’s eyes softened, feeling ashamed as she had keen ability to do. She included him in her prayers and in her gesture of giving life. 

“I have doubted your belief in days past. I have found myself a fool for it.” He said seriously as he thought of Juno’s hand and the Gods. How many times her faith echoed more truth than his doubt. 

His eyes met hers and then the cart shook with the roar of the storm and the sounds of a possible avalanch in the vacinity. 

The wind picked up and fearfully Sibyl clung to him. Gannicus held her, his hand comforting on her hair. Touching and having her this close in his arms was a new kind of torture. He felt a doomed man. 

Oh Juno, why do you tempt me thus? he asked with eyes to heaven’s, 

“You are safe.” He closed his eyes and repearted his words again comfortingly. 

Suddenly as if Juno challenged question directly, Sibyl pulled from his arms and moved boldly to him and captured his mouth with hers. 

Closing his eyes in surprise but not displeasure he kissed her back, but then gaining his senses for a moment pushed back gently. 

His eyes were serious. No matter the will of the gods, did they not see how unworthy he was? Could she not see? 

“I have warned you to stay far from men of my kind.” He said gravely hoping she would understand his meaning. He wanted her, but he was not for her.

Her eyes penetrating and as immovable as the mountains she seemed sad with his continued request. “You ask the impossible.” And she moved forward in offering of her lips as she leaned her head against his but not pressing him. 

Looking upon her Gannicus mused but a moment that he had refused such a gift from the gods at least twice. He was the fool to refuse a third. 

Fearfully, for he was in truly uncharted territory when it came to emotions and intimacy. The meeting of minds rather than just flesh. And the only time it crossed even close to this it had been wrong and led to broken hearts and death. 

He brought his hands to her face giving into to the gift he saw must have been of the gods though she thought it reversed. 

He could not hardly breath he touched her neck with his bare fingertips. Reverently, almost fearful he would break her. Once he met his lips to hers, he was lost in her embrace.

Gannicus moved her back as they never broke intimate kiss which felt as life giving air. 

Never having been so filled by just kissing, He could stop there he said sitting on his elbow and pulling away for a moment. She looked up at him so willing and beautiful. She was not like anyone he had ever laid with. No one ever quite as pure, he was in awe at the girl so willingly offering herself to him, with the vision of love and trust in her eyes. He felt weakened by her effect on him.  
Sensing his hesitation Sibyl took his hand to her cloaks tie in the front and he pulled the string, looking into her eyes as he did so.

Still he could hardly believe they were there, about to make love in the freezing snow that would likely take lives that night, but he was in heaven. This memory would see him through darkest hour no matter outcome of battle ahead. This was the moment that made it all worth living. 

Nervous hands opened the cloak and pulled the shoulder of dress off her shoulders. She assisted in the task and he looked at her breasts in fascination. His hand trailed light up her chest to her neck to the side of her face and he brought his lips again to hers. 

Her legs opened for him and he found himself pulled to her center but he wished to not be rough. 

He loosened his cock and it sprung free, He pulled up her dress and entered her gently. She cried out and he kissed her neck her lips. Once inside her warm tightness he was utterly lost to her. He worshiped her. 

Sensing her brief pain he held back a little, but it was with extreme difficulty and he tried to pleasure her as he humped at her shallowly but she pulled him back in deeper and moaned and cried out. But not in pain. 

She was a generous lover he mused and punged into her body. Kissing her deeply he hungered for every inch of her as he pluged into her harder now with her encouragement. She cried out and he moved to her neck to allow her vocalization. 

He was urged on by her cried of passion and he groaned. Never har he reached this peake he marveled. He moved down ward to give her breath and himself a moment for fear he would reach satisfaction too soon. He went down to her sex,and used his fingers to explore her bringing her to new heights of sexual stimulation.

He looked at his fingers to find them slick and red. He put his fingers into the snow to wipe them off. She had been a virgin, just as he had thought. He moved back up to her and captured his mouth. He wasn’t sure he had ever had a virgin. It wasn’t something he found importance in, but just now it felt a sacrafice to him and he felt honor and pride nothing quite ever compared to. Even being named God of the Arena. 

He entered her more easily this time and resumed rhythm. His lips worked wonerously upon hers. She moaned and panted beneath him and her hands clutched his arms and she kissed him back welcoming. 

Soon he felt her reach climax and he shook with his effort to hold back his own till her own ascension. He felt like an overly eager boy. He rooted deep inside her as her muscles clamped and pulsated around him. 

She clutched him and cried out. “Oh Gannicus.”

That broke him and he slammed in her and gave into his seed. It burst from him into her. He did not even offer to pull out as he usually did with Saxa or his other past lovers. He wanted to give her all of him as she had. Holding nothing back he gave into wreckless abandon. He kissed her as he impaled himself the last time. She held him to her and hi rested his forehead to hers Breathing near her cheek. Sharing each othes warmth. Still not separated. He lefted himself up after a time and touched her cheeks tenderly. No words were said now. They just curled into oneanother and fell into a deep sleep as they nuzzled into the other. No longer shivvering. 

He was the first to wake, he kissed Sibyl’s neck hungrily and she moaned and shifted in her arms. He looked out to the calm morning and sat up he looked ruefully at the nice weather that signaled the end to their time in each others arms. 

Sibyl woke and sat up, she pulled her dress back on correctly. She ventured a fearful look at Gannicus. He smiled at her sweetly and now initiated the kiss himself to banish concern from her face. 

“The gods have parted clouds from sky.” He whispered as he pulled back. “They will think us for the afterlife if we do not rejoin them.” 

Sibyl nodded and went to tied her cloak closed but he stopped her and took over as he looked into her eyes seriously. His finger cradled her chin familiarly and he smiled as he leaned down again and kissed her. 

They had once again been delivered of almost certain death and he found that despite the chill of the night, he rose refreshed and well rested, and hungry for more. But he also knew with clearer mind what thoughts should lead action.

Also knew better what path the gods wished him upon and he had finally accepted their will, if at least as far as she was concerned. 

——

Approaching the group Gannicus looked much as he had when he returned from Sinuessa. 

Spartacus stood relieved to see the God of the Arena still standing before him, and took careful note of the girl shortly behind as she had been once before. 

“I feared you among the dead.” Spartacus said thinking of the thousand lost to the frozen winds. 

Saxa walked near, she noted the difference in his demeanor, and the look on Sibyl’s face. Something had happened between them. Her warrior hardened heart halted a little at the feeling of betrayal.

Gannicus looked her in the eye but for a moment and looked down ashamed as if to admit accusation in her eyes.

“Gods took pitty, and provided us with needed shelter.” He said bringing up the gods again, finally meeting Saxa’s eyes.

“Not all so blessed.” The last word bit him hard as he noted the mocking tone. She did not share his sentiments of the Gods mercy. 

Sibyl stepped out of behind Gannicus and caught sight of her fellow devotes. “No…they were not.” 

Frustrated she went to the offering and picked up her statue still covered in her own frozen blood. 

“We sought aid from the heavens.” She rubbed it. “To see us beyond darkness of trench and wall.” she shuddered at the cruelty of the gods. “And here stands reply?” she asked. 

Spartacus near at hand spoke thought suddenly entered mind, triggered by prayer and sacrafice. “Yet in their cruelty…perhaps the gods light way for those yet living.” 

Sibyl looked at him sideways in question.


	11. Chapter 11

Gannicus looked to Sibyl reluctantly as brothers moved from hill with clear mission to move bodies and press attack on wall. 

He wished a chance to break words with both Saxa and Sibyl but there was no chance, and instead, he went to the rear where Sibyl lingered at the altar with tears clouding eyes. 

“I will find you after battles end,” he promised. 

She looked up from her kneeling position confused. “I have no wish to misplace one who holds honored place beside you in life and battle.” she scrambled to her feet. 

He looked at her and cocked his head. “It is too late for that,” he whispered and smiled softly as his hand went tenderly to her cheek as he thought of their night together without shame and wishing her to carry none as well. 

Looking back down to her idol she had forgotten in her hast to stand he bent forward. 

“Musn’t forget such treasured possession,” he whispered, pressing it into her fingers. “And keep to path.” 

She nodded and followed with him back to the camp where they parted without further tenderness. 

—— 

Spartacus and the rebel army and refugees had to keep moving and only took a moment pause to take what they could from the Roman camp on the other side of trench and wall. They also had some better carts to haul having needed to abandon most of their things behind the wall and only taking what could be carried through the small door. 

But they still traveled light with everyone carrying a burden besides the warriors who had to be ready to defend at a moments notice. Within a day Crassus was harassing them with small numbers. Trying to wear them down. 

Gannicus had not been able to find Sibyl yet among the throng, but he was holding the back as were the best warriors for fear of attack. Saxa was near but she wasn’t talking with him. That much was obvious. She was not even meeting his eyes at this point which was acceptable enough for him at the moment. 

Spartacus decided to allow them to find rest for the night he went from small fire to fire in search of her and soon he found her, finally after days. 

“Sibyl,” he said softly from the tree to her left. 

Her head turned and she smiled surprised at his sudden appearance. “Gannicus.”

Moving to her he pulled her into his arms. 

“Many days absent rest and sight of you,” he said in a quiet voice. He knew that his action drew looks of the people who had thought him with Saxa. 

Mouth dropped to hers with sudden thirst and she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms about his neck. She seemed surprised that he was there and only now reacted with physicality. 

“Come, I have small tent made,” he whispered. “We will rest but a short time.” 

She blinked. “You are certain?” her face furrowed in confusion. “Many nights we have not risked attempt at more than rest against walking partners back.” she looked to Laeta who sat by the pregnant woman. 

“Spartacus fears more skilled attack than the pathetic troops thrown upon back. He wishes us better rested if that were to occur.” his hands threaded through her hair. “It would allow you more energetic retreat as well,” he said tenderly. 

He pressed his mouth to hers in need and only broke it after a time to pulled her to follow. 

Once at the small tent, she found all had been prepared and he directed her inside. Few fires were being allowed for concealed position was still required so warmth and comfort would be better found inside. 

Once inside she knelt near the thrown fur and awaited him as he brought inside some food that had been cooked for him already. 

“You have not eaten?” he asked. 

She smiled. “I have,” she whispered. 

Taking jug and food in hand he went to her on ground across from her. “Then you shall eat a little more with me.” he smiled setting the jug aside and pinched a little food in his hand and took it to her mouth. 

She shyly shook her head. “You first.” 

His gaze did not waver as he dropped it into his mouth chewed and then re-offered her some. 

There she took it and he groaned as she ate from his fingers. 

“Have you found any rest?” he asked. 

She nodded. “Enough,” she whispered. 

Taking his fill of the meat and meal gran he fed her another bite and then put the food aside and took her mouth to his as if she were the next course. “I would have you next,” he whispered pushing her back to the fur. He pulled her cloak aside and his mouth dropped to her neck. 

“Was she very angry?” Sibyl whispered. 

Gannicus held himself in check and lifted his head. His cock was swelled and he hungered for her. To fill her. The concept of the act of completion more fulfilling than the sport of the game it had once been but the tone sensed in her voice stopped his actions. 

“Cease worry. Saxa does not even wish to break-word with me.” he smiled and touched his nose to her. “I suspect she already has another bedmate.” he cradled her head and kissed her. 

She blinked and wrapped her arms around him. “And should she wish to come back?” 

He trailed his hand down her face and blinked. “You are my woman,” he said simply and his wrist was now wrapped with her bandage she once dressed his wound with and hers the same with his. 

A shadow of confusion filled her eyes. “But I am not what you-“ she started to protest, but he put his finger to her mouth and kissed her. 

Making slow and gentle love to her. Their energy not strong enough for vigorous activity anyway, but needing the connection regardless. 

Once emptied he pulled her naked body into his arms and wrapped her cloak and dress around them. 

“How long do we have?” she asked. 

He rubbed his chin into her hair as if the act was heaven itself. “Few hours, you may have a little longer,” he said kissing her head and stroking her side under the cloak. Relishing this tender moment. 

Sleeping deeply he was roused by sound of camp. 

With a sigh, he moved a fraction and noted the figure in his arms and he smiled relaxing as he noticed her eyes fluttered. 

His hold on her did not change as he waited to see if she sensed he was now awake. Closing his eyes he tried to steal longer moment with her as he could hear the activity outside increasing. 

Her breath changed and he could feel her head shift, then she gently moved a little but his arms were too firm. 

“Do you mean to steal away from me before eyes open, forcing me to think you a specter?” he asked. 

Her hand now upon chest he opened his eyes again to meet hers. 

“I but thought to tend to… personal needs.” she blushed. 

He nodded and kissed her. “Apologies.” he kissed her again. “Return with haste,” he whispered. “We may be but left with stolen moments.” 

Once gone from his side he felt the chill and he turned and stretched as he smiled. He did not really have any reason to besides her. 

Taking longer than he expected he pulled her in eagerly. “What took you so long?” he asked. 

Her blush crept up her neck. “A woman had a blister on foot. I but lent hand to tend it a moment while passing.” 

Fingers buried in her hair he pulled her beneath him again as his mouth took hers tenderly. She always thought of others before herself and it humbled him. 

“Fortunate she was that you were upon path,” he whispered thinking the same things about himself of her and she of him. That the gods had put her in his path. 

—— 

Mercifully he had found excuse to travel more near the women and he had been able to see her from time to time in the next days. Never enough time, but a few stolen embraces had to be enough to sustain him. 

He was just looking forward to an evening spent in warm embrace as the tent was prepared and he had her beside him when he heard his name from behind. 

“Gannicus.” Spartacus’s voice broke his chore in helping Sibyl to make their space more comfortable. “Gather Ludo and scout ahead.” With that Gannicus’s hopes were dashed. “I would know of any opportunity towards grain or meat.” 

With a sad nod, he rose to his tired and regretful feet and moved to order but not before turning to her and pressing head to hers. “Apologies,” he whispered. 

She smiled. “None required.” 

He touched her face with his thumb and kissed her tenderly before reaching for his swords. 

——

Eyes beheld miracle just near enough to have him back to the camp. 

“They have laid eyes upon a valley. Twenty or more nestled within.” Spartacus summarized to the others as Gannicus stood silent, eager for dismissal and to be with Sibyl again. 

“Bounty of Cattle and goat grazing lands,” Gannicus said thinking it promising. 

Crixus nodded. “Well then let us fall upon them, and see the blood of beasts and Romans mingled beneath night's moon,” he said coldly. 

Spartacus looked down seriously. “And upon dawn's break, I would press north, towards rise of the alps.” 

Crixus looked at him in question. “You would set up camp upon the mountains?” he asked. 

“No.” Spartacus countered. “I would cross them, and upon other side and see our people to the winds.” 

Crixus looked to Gannicus in appeal. “Has he at last gone fucking mad?” 

Gannicus looked down and away. “Crassus pursues a single army, easily tracked,” he said. Being of clear mind he could see this. 

Spartacus joined in the sale of the plan. “Thousands of slaves running free beyond lands of the Republic…” he sighed. “Not even he has resource enough to find so many scattered across foreign soil.” 

Crixus looked shattered. “All that we have done.” he looked now to Gannicus. “All that has been lost. It will stand for nothing if we now turn and flee.” 

“If we stay, Crassus will again be upon us and—“ Spartacus spoke but was cut off by Agron. 

“Let them come,” he said. “We have bested them before.” 

“And perhaps we may again. But at what cost?” Spartacus argued. “How many more among us will fall? How many women unable to raise arms?” he asked leaning on the table. “Or children new to this world. I would have them free,” he said seriously. “Absent darkening shadow of the Republic.”

Crixus leaned to him. “Well then let us pierce its heart, and see shadow forever lifted,” he suggested. “Crassus’s army pushed from the south. If we were to turn west, we would be at the gates of Rome before his legions could turn to defend the city.” 

Spartacus looked shocked. “You would strike at Rome itself?” 

“I would see it tremble. As the man, you once were thundered when Batiatus fell.” 

Gannicus and Agron shared a wary glance as they feared conflict escalation. 

Spartacus looked to Gannicus. “Leave us.” 

Taking cup and jug with troubling thoughts he went to find Sibyl and ease mind. She always seemed to know how to clear his mind to proper path and he hungered for the ease she would bring. 

Seemed they had a few moments before action was again needed. More stolen moments, never long enough. 

He found Sibyl had moved to pack since they had already gotten word that they would not be staying. 

“Gannicus, you look troubled,” she said as he came close with pitcher in hand. She had not seen him with such much since Sinuessa and the sight brought her anxiety. 

“Crixus is looking to break from Spartacus and turn to snap at the very gates of Rome,” he said. 

She frowned. “And you are to join him?” 

He leaned down and kissed her. “I intend to follow Spartacus, but as to where that path leads I am not sure it is my path.” 

She blinked. “So we are to move on tonight?” she asked. 

He nodded. “Few miles there is a valley with find villas. You and I shall have a proper bed for once.” 

She blushed. “Will we? After all, there are so many. Perhaps a bed will be difficult to find.” 

He shook his head and chuckled. She had lightened his mood. As he kissed her more fully and held her close realizing how much he cherished his seconds with her. “We will find one.” 

“I would be happy with our tent if only we could rest a time and enjoy one another arms.” she reached his face. 

He reached for her face as his other arm cradled her back, clutching her close. “Keep to those prayers. We may yet see them come to pass, if just for a time.” he pressed a tender kiss to her again only to sigh as he heard his name from Agron. “Gannicus, we move to battle.” 

“Hurry to the women, I will see you soon. We will feast, and drink tonight. You will know what a real party is like.” he winked as he turned with a smile. 

She smiled back but he noted the flash of concern on her face.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I submitted a short story to a Competition on Vocal Media. It is a big deal for my original work. 
> 
> Like I said it is a short story. 
> 
> If I have entertained, please give this a read! I beg of you. This Original work actually helps me in my career. 
> 
> Just copy past the link provided here -----https://vocal.media/stories/call-of-the-black-book
> 
> MUCH GRATITUDE.

Sibyl watched from above as the battle if you could call it that unfolded. The valley settlement of villas was entirely unaware and unprepared. It was a slaughter but she knew how it filled their gathering with hope. She watched as women offered their tears to the gods in the place of wine or honey for thanks. 

She just now prayed for her hero, the man she loved to always come back to her. That the pull of wine and women were not so great or the perils of battle so constant. 

However it was hard to imagine seeing him fall, but yet she feared it. Just like she feared him turning from her. 

——

The battle was short and satisfying in the taking of the settlement in the valley below and he had boasted of good drink to Sibyl and as they enjoyed the festivities together he noticed she tried to join in more fully than he had ever seen. 

But as Ludo spoke poetry in his native tongue as he passed Sibyl choked and gasped at the powerful spirits they consumed. 

“Oh it burns throat,” she commented as he laughed. 

He leaned forward against the wall charmed by her inexperience. “As does all proper drink,” he said looking at her. “Perhaps you should hold with water and more purer thoughts.” he challenged teasingly as he felt curious to see her opinion. 

She frowned. “Or perhaps you should get another,” she said cryptically. “This one gone empty.” she took the challenge and threw the rest of the drink back. 

He laughed but was unsure of the knot that formed inside him. 

“Recall when head pounds upon morning, that I but follow command,” he said taking the cup reluctantly but leaned down and kissed her tenderly as he left her side. 

Going to the impluvium where Ludo swam he laughed to see his friend enjoying himself so freely with many women he did not notice Saxa directly across.

“You are with Little Thing, now?” Saxa asked looking past him. 

Gannicus’s eyes followed to Sibyl who stood, innocently waiting for him and guilt shrouded his eyes. 

“Apologies, I do not wish to see heart wounded,” he said going to pour his woman a drink. His sole purpose in coming away from her in the first place. 

Saxa looked seriously from Sibyl back to him and leveled a serious warning.  
“You will ruin Little Thing with dink and ways of your kind,” she said coldly as she slinked into the impluvium, her own bedmate right there, soaking in the water. “and you will again find my bed.” she baited and leaned forward in a kiss meant to bring him back to her but it only made him smile momentarily but as he turned and his eyes lighted on Sibyl the weight of Saxa’s words hit him. 

It wasn’t true. He still enjoyed wine, but she was right. This kind of life would ruin her… Besides, the water did appeal more. Waking up with a clear enough head to make love and pleasure Sibyl before a hard day was an improvement to days past. Juno has seen fit to make the path clear and again he found reminder. 

Setting the cup aside and jug he went to her. His eyes serious as he looked around to see people fucking and laughing as they shared a drink and he realized this was not how he wished to spend his time tonight. He did not wish to alter Sibyl, or himself…or surround selves with this unbridled atmosphere. This was not their relationship. 

“You did not bring back drink.” Sibyl frowned. 

“I but wish to live this night without the haze of drink to aid in loss of treasured memory.” he cocked his head seriously as he leaned in. “I do not wish to stay in such mixed company,” he confessed. “It is still early, we may yet find a private place to call ours for the night. I recall making promise of a private bed,” he said pulling her to him. 

He touched her delicate neck. 

“Gannicus,” she whispered, suddenly serious amid the revelry. 

He cocked his head. “Yes, Sibyl?” he said with a coy smile. 

She bit her lip in a coy way and he smiled. 

“I thought you wanted to show me a real party?” she squinted confusedly. 

He leaned against the wall behind her and whispered in her ear. “You, my sweet little thing…” his voice like the most soothing gravel. “when standing compared to you it is tiresome and makes me weary.” 

He pulled back to catch the deepest frown he had seen since he rejected her the first time. 

“What is it Sibyl?” he asked now grasping her chin. Her expressions still charmed him. 

She swallowed and her eyes teared up a little. “It’s just…. Many of these many you will never have chance to share drink or laugh.” her lip trembled. “I would not relish being cause of that loss,” she said trying to avert her eyes from him but he just held her chin firm to look at him. 

“What of my time with you?” he asked. “Could it not too be numbered?” his throat tightened. Voice was raw and thick with emotion unused to being shared. “I would not sacrifice last night with them for even one of our remaining ones,” he confessed. “However many remain.” 

Her eyes were wide now and she blinked. 

“Come,” he said as he pulled her close. “Let us continue this conversation where others are not quite so-“ he looked to his left where Ludo humped into one woman while sucking another’s breast. “Loud,” he said as Ludo shouted some victory chant as he came hard and his eyes rolled back as the group all laughed and held her to him.

She looked at him sideways and he just held her close and kissed her head. 

“Sibyl…I want no one else by my side. I want to lie with no others for the rest of my life…” and he stroked her cheek, “and none other to touch you.” he looked at her now almost nervously. “I hope you of the same mind.” 

She blinked up at him and shook her head. “Gannicus, I never imagined you would love me.” tears came to her eyes and he felt himself cradle her into him. “I loved you even when It seemed against the odds.” 

He clutched her to him but shook his head. 

“Come, I will have you in a proper bed this night,” he whispered taking her down a street where more celebrations were being enjoyed. Passing a quieter villa he opened the gate and looked in. 

“Why is this one not so occupied?” she asked. 

Gannicus shrugged as they passed quieter refugees enjoying food by a fire and conversation. 

He pulled her inside and there they did find a bedroom. 

“See my love, I would have you on a bed this night,” he said lifting her up and carrying her much as he had in the snow. 

“Will you go with Crixus?” she asked afraid.

He twirled his hands through her hair. “And give up a chance at a life with you?” he asked. 

Sibyl’s frown made his gut clench. “I will follow you if you wish to free more slaves.” 

He shook his head. “I would see you free.” he pressed his head to her. “I will not follow Crixus, though he will ask and I will tell him I have found reason to turn from battle.” 

She reached up and kissed him as he pulled her to him.

—— 

The next morning they lingered in parting. 

“It seems but yesterday you stood as open-mouthed Gaul, anxious to prove yourself in the arena,” he said to Crixus as they left the building. His eyes fell on his woman and despite the unrelated conversation he could not hold his thoughts tethered. His heart was full this morning with remembered words of love shared between them and hope for future. 

Crixus passed in front of him breaking his vision of her for but a moment. 

“Now thousands gladly follow you, lay assault upon Rome itself,” he said meeting the man's eyes. 

Crixus nodded feeling warmed by the praise. “I would hold it as a blessing from Jupiter himself if you would join with us.” 

Gannicus’s eyes slid over to Sibyl across the street in conversation. His eyes softening again. 

“My journey leads towards other path,” he answered and then looked back to Crixus who turned his head around to see where Gannicus’s gaze had turned when answering. 

A smile lit face when recognizing the journey Gannicus walked. 

“There is no greater cause,” he said seriously as he turned back to him. “To turn a man from battle.” 

Gannicus nodded a fraction in gratitude for understanding and in respects his blessing on choice. 

Their hands met and they patted shoulders in mutual respect as Gannicus turned from that path to the one the gods had chosen for him. The one he wished to chose for himself but had felt unworthy of. 

Sibyl frowned as he approached but he just went to her and wrapped his arms around her. Being the first to initiate affection he held her close enjoying her for every moment he could. 

Whatever happened now, he just hoped to have more time with her and keep her alive.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, just leaving this again if you have not read my submission for a competition. I really could use the reads. I am not sure how the judges come to any conclusions and It would help me if it is read. it is FREE! but you can TIP, if you insist. Lol. 
> 
> https://vocal.media/humans/call-of-the-black-book

Time they were granted, but nights scouting had proved uncomfortable find as they moved north. Confirmed as Laeta’s eyes fell upon armor. 

Pompey was near. 

“A master of both land and sea,” she said in Spartacus’s praetorium. “My husband spoke of deep admiration of the man. Bending tongue to welcome him as Rome’s greatest warrior.” 

Spartacus, impatient with her information. “I have heard tale of his conquests, and name of adolescent butcher given him,” he said coldly. 

“We shall butcher bird and fish,” Ludo said confidently. 

Gannicus who did not mirror the confidence interrupted. “I thought Pompey mired in Hispania against the renegade Sentorius?” he asked. “His absence the reason Crassus took up arms against us.” 

“If Pompey’s scouts return to the Republic, as night follows day, the man and his legions will trail their shadow.” 

Nasir came to the tent opening. “Spartacus, a rider approaches.” 

Nervous and ready for a surprise attack he moved with his men. “This may hold but distraction.” looking around he pointed. “Give voice if eyes fall upon movement upon flanks!” he barked. 

“They wear cloak of the fucking legion,” Gannicus said at the front. 

Spartacus silent a moment squinted. “That is no Roman,” he said as they all watched the figure fall from mounted horse. 

Gannicus carried with Spartacus Naevia into the shelter of the tent. Sheltered from prying eyes and ears. Both however knew she came with a dark message. They had seen what she carried in arms. 

Pouring her wine they encouraged her to drink. 

“Do not waste such on the dead.” her throat sounded dry.

Bending down and taking bench near Spartacus spoke. “You yet live.” 

She stared straight. “I am but pale shade, haunting a world fallen from meaning.” 

Spartacus inched closer. “Then we much nourish specter, so that it may reclaim flesh and promise of better days.”

She could not look at him. “There stand none upon horizon,” she whispered as tears fell from eyes. 

Reaching his arms out Spartacus wanted to at the very least relieve her of her carried burden. 

Gannicus had stood listening spoke now. “Was his end as he always dreamed?” his voice thick. “In glorious battle?”

“In battle, yes,” she said strained. “Though robbed of glory.” 

“Tell of it,” Spartacus asked. “That we may share in the burden of grief.” 

She smiled whimsically. “The days after we parted were filled with victory. The blood of our enemies turning fields to crimson mud thick with the dead. Rome lay within grasp…” she said weakly. “Only to have it snatched from us by Crassus and his legions.” 

“It was the man himself, that robbed Crixus of life?” Spartacus clarified. 

Naevia closed her eyes and shook her head coming to the hardest part. “Crixus was engaged by the traitor Caesar when boy, of scant years, pierced back with spear.” 

Feeling the rage rise Gannicus shook his head. “A fucking boy.” 

“What of Agron?” Nasir asked having overheard part of the conversation. 

All of them turned to him not knowing what to say. 

“Does he share fate with Crixus?” he pressed. “Or is he yet of this world?” 

Naevia’s face trembled as fresh tears sprung as she was unable to answer. 

Overwhelmed Nasir turned and stumbled from tent. Once he left Naevia continued. 

“There is but single reason Crassus spare my life.” She said ominously. “To taunt Spartacus with vision of his end.” 

Spartacus rose and went to Gannicus who whispered to him. 

“Crassus attempts to goad you into foolish action,” he warned their leader. 

“If I stood only for my own life perhaps I would stand so moved,” Spartacus confessed. “Yet, we must turn from such thoughts and set purpose towards more pressing concern.” 

Gannicus understood the concern he spoke. “Pompey.” 

“His scouts were headed south, towards Crassus’s legions. He will send more when they do not return.” Spartacus implied action. 

“We cannot afford to be caught between two armies, fighting as one,” he said sensibly. 

“No. We cannot.” Spartacus agreed. 

——

Coming to their private tent he found his woman upon bended knee and he smiled to see her prayers. To be so privy to her faith and understand it. 

She had not seen he was there yet and he just took moment to appreciate quiet, undisturbed moment as she paid homage to the gods. 

“Will you just stand there watching me?” She asked without opening her eyes. Her mouth pulling into a smile. 

His own broke and he stepped closer to the small fire. “I but appreciate a sight that touches something inside of me I do not know how to describe.” he shook his head. “It fills me with a need,” he said taking her hand to pull her to foot. 

“You look troubled,” she said reaching for his face. 

He cradled her hand to his face, relishing its comfort. “Naevia has returned with Crasusses taunt of looming death to Spartacus.” 

Sibyl blinked as tears gathered. “The army?” 

He shook his head thinking about how she came into his life just when he would have been tempted to battle Rome itself. She was why he yet breathed, that and the hand of Juno herself. 

“Gannicus, I am so sorry,” she whispered. 

He shook his head. “Think not on them this night. Spartacus has mission I must attend with others. I may away for a few nights.”

She frowned. “When do you leave?” she asked. 

He ran his fingers through her hair. “Under cloak of darkness,” he leaned his head to hers. “I would lie with you before I leave.” 

She blushed and reached for him. “Why do I feel like you request it.” 

He rubbed her back. “I but thought your woman’s time would be upon you soon.” 

She nodded. “Yes, it is expected.” 

He blinked and leaned down a little. “It is not delayed?” 

Blushing she looked away. “No, I do not believe so. But If you are concerned I suppose I could seek a potion.” Her heart hammered and stuck in her throat as she watched his face. 

Releasing her just enough to see her belly he shook his head. “I would not rid your body of a blessing from Juno if so bestowed.” 

Her breath caught. “Gannicus?” 

He kissed her. “Come, say no more on the subject,” he said scooping her into his arms again to bring to their fur. 

——

The call of battle was not what it used to be and it brought bitter disappointment and with it a sense of lost opportunity to quell the army of Crassus. 

He sent his son in his place instead of himself meeting Pompey. 

The only satisfaction came in obtaining the boy that killed Crixus himself. But that would do little in bringing a war to end. 

As he reunited with her back at camp with the prisoners, Gannicus worried this would mean separation from Sibyl. He looked upon her not with triumph but worry. 

She too saw it where the others did not. They did not see the failure their trap had been. 

“You look tired,” Gannicus said holding her close after Gannicus had made his announcements. 

She nodded. “I sat at prayer most nights without sleep, and into the day doing my usual work.” 

His hand found her face. “I mean you look overly tired,” he whispered. 

Tears entered her eyes. “I but worry,” she whispered. 

He nodded and swallowed with difficulty. “For now, worry not. I will hold you in my arms all night,” he said kissing her. 

She wrapped her arms around him with emotion but the tears did not stop. 

“I see you shadowed again by the specter of death,” she uttered. “I may not even have a piece of you” 

He sighed and nodded. “I very well might be, but think not on that. Whatever ends my life comes to it will be in payment for yours,” he whispered. 

She shook her head. “Gannicus, don’t say such thing. Please.” 

Looking around he cleared his throat. “Allow me to determine when Spartacus needs me next, then I will meet you in our tent.” he pressed against her forehead. 

She sniffed and nodded feeling broken. “I am upon my woman’s time.”

He felt his heart lurch at that moment and he looked up to the sky above feeling like he had something snatched from him. But he had been too greedy in his hope. 

He pulled back and stroked her cheek. “I don’t need to lie with you to want to be with you.” 

Watching her leave he found himself wishing he could sacrifice something to the gods in trade for this last wish but he could not ask it. She said he seemed to be followed again by the shadow of death and Crassus was not beat. 

They were about to be sandwiched between two armies. How could he want such a thing for her to be so burdened…and without him. 

He hurried to the task and went to her as fast as he could. His breath in panted gasps as he entered the tent. He saw her cradling her belly. 

“You are hurt?” he asked. 

She closed her eyes. “No,” she whispered. “Just hold me.” 

He obliged by pulling her into his arms tightly. 

“Tell me what troubles mind,” he said. “You are tense.”

Sibyl turned in his arms. “I just thought… I thought I might have been,” she said. “I feel wrong to have hoped. Apologies for vanity.” 

He frowned and tilted her head. “No, I -“ word stuck in throat. “If we were free of this…” he closed his eyes pained a moment and looked as if unable to decern proper communication as she turned to face him. 

“Don’t say anything,” she whispered and put her hand to his mouth. “Hurt feelings over words that cannot be taken back and longing for that which we cannot grasp is going to turn the time we have to bitterness.” 

He felt a lump form in his throat as he realized she thought he would say something to hurt her. 

“We may only have days left to us,” he whispered. 

Her lip trembled. “You mean?” she shook in his arms and he rubbed her delicately. 

He nodded. “I may need to stand while you take chance afforded to flee,” he said with resolve. “But it has not all been determined yet. We still have our prayers have we not?” 

She pressed her hand against his chest. “I see hands made weak…” her breath caught… “Gannicus.” 

Cuddling her to him he shook his head. “My hands are strong as are both my sword arms.” 

She nodded nervously.


	14. Chapter 14

The next day a pire was built and he felt a similar thrill of the games but instead of standing with the others, he stood beside Sibyl who had a prominent spectator position upon edge of the sand. 

Sibyl was confused by the bloodlust of the crowd and the cheers of exhilaration as the kills were made. 

It was only the proximity of her hero that gave her calm. She did not enjoy battle but valued what it brought her. The gods had shaped a man like Gannicus in such a way to be a tool. Though it disturbed her she could see its use. 

He leaned in close to her and she voice thought. “I have never laid eyes upon the games.” 

He looked at her for a moment and turned back to spectacle. “These are but dim reflections of their glory,” he said with warm remembrance. 

She frowned confused and fearful. “You speak as if heart years for such days,” she stated in more of a question but he laughed at what he saw on their made arena upon the cliff. She thought he had not paid her any mind. 

But then he shrugged. “To return to shackle no.” his eyes now met hers momentarily and went back to Spartacus rilling up the crowd. “To stand upon the sands again, To know clear purpose of who you are, and what must be done…” his voice wistful. “That is a thing that calls to all of my kind,” he said seriously. 

Sibyl frowned and blinked back tears that would have threatened to fall if she so allowed. They had not spoken as tenderly again as they had the night before and she sensed a distance in him now. As if he was disengaging from her. 

She silently now watched as Spartacus finished off his two. 

“I will have more blood, to honor my brother Crixus and all who follow him to the afterlife,” he said to the crowd. 

With the point of his sword. “Gannicus, Take position.” 

She did not look at him this time as he looked to her for favor. Her eyes could not meet his. It was enough to know that their time was nearly at an end. She could feel it, and she could tell he did too. 

Perhaps Saxa was right. He would find her bed again, or he already had. She wasn’t hurt. He had warned her to stay away from his kind. 

He was still the best of men… but since his return and her woman’s time it felt somehow shifted. 

She would pray to the gods she was wrong. Putting on smile she was determined to love every moment with him in her eyes. 

Suddenly he was beside her again with grin upon face after beheading the last man and he claimed kiss. 

“I wish to claim treasured sweet nectar after such bloodshed and heated sweat.” he laughed

She reached for him and prayed to the gods he would be with her and this sense of parting to come was imagined. 

A man came beside them and Gaannicus turned looking bothered by the interruption. 

“Yes?” he said looking at him. 

“Urgent visitor at camp, held in Spartacus tent.” the man said. 

Gannicus frowned. “Visitor?”

The man looked nervous and nodded. “Enemy… Caesar,” he said under his breath. “He brings word of offered trade.” 

Gannicus looked livid. “He brings lie upon forked tongue,” He turned to see the attentions of Spartacus had been drawn. 

“Who do you speak of?” He asked. 

Gannicus sighed. “One I long to greet.” He answered.

Soon enough for Gannicus, fist met flesh and he laid the man to the ground. 

“I offer fair trade,” he said, prone beneath his feet. “Five hundred of your men taken in battle against Crixus, for Tiberius’s life.”

Gannicus kicked him soundly in the face and Caesar moaned. 

Going for the kill, Spartacus called Gannicus to “Hold. I would hear of this.” 

Gannicus slapped the man on the ground like a bitch. 

“He lives then?” Caesar smiled with a slight laugh. “The boy?” 

“Perhaps, for yet a moment,” Spartacus answered. 

Gannicus was nearly unchained in his anger. “Tell me you do not fall prey to this viper's tongue?” 

Caesar spit. “The words they form are not my own.” he attempted to explain. “Do not think me the fool to greet you with willful fucking intent.” 

“Crassus would offer such a bargain?” Spartacus doubted it.

“He would offer Jupiter's throne in return for festering disease that sprung from noble loins,” Caesar said coming to his feet. 

Gannicus could not believe the man's words. He recalled to keenly the sword he pulled from Spartacus’s back the night their defenses fell in Sinuessa. 

“He but attempts to draw us into another plot turning upon itself,” he said with controlled anger and thought he was trying to come to the bottom of. 

“He attempts nothing,” Caesar said earnestly. “The man is of singular mind.” As he spoke Spartacus put sword blade to neck. “One I do not fucking share.” Caesar finished. 

Coming close, blade still lethal against the neck, Spartacus whispered. “Five hundred?” 

Caesar nodded. “Take my life, as I know you desire, and end theirs as well.” 

——

Gannicus did not leave Caesar for a single moment as Spartacus went to do what he felt he must. 

Caesar took a wobbled seat. 

“Proven god of the arena still it seems.” Caesar dabbed at his nose with the back of his hand. “You are certainly a man I should have rather held in friendship.” 

Eyeing him in anger he scoffed. “Do you now?” 

Caesar nodded. “The Gods have favored you well for a slave.” 

He shook his head. “I am no slave.” 

Spitting, Caesar leaned forward. “No, you won your freedom upon the sands, and foolishly joined doomed rebellion. Had you not, we might have stood in company differently, could we not?” 

Gannicus shook his head. “I never favor Roman’s.” 

Leaning with a wince he smiled. “What of your friend, the blacksmith? Did he not stand Roman as I do?” 

Gannicus laughed. “Do not speak of what you know not of.” 

Caesar smiled. “There may come a time you look upon me as friend,” he said with a challenge. 

Shaking his head Gannicus shook his head. “I think not.” he laughed. “Not even the Gods have such a twisted sense of humor.” 

Shrugging Caesar laughed. “In my experience, the God's humors are twisted regularly.” 

Relaxing with a contented smile on his face he looked at his leisure and Gannicus found the man puzzling. 

——

It wasn’t long before Spartacus and Naevia joined him in the tent. 

“I yet fear cunning scheme, concealing bitter end.” She confessed. 

Spartacus however looked significantly sure. “Crassus will not risk treachery at the cost of one he loves.” 

Gannicus looked down. “We thought the same of Galber, towards his wife.” 

Nasir approached the tent flap. 

“We have received word. Hundreds of our people march toward agreed-upon exchange under watch of Roman soldiers.” 

Sliding his sword into his sheath he nodded. “Keep eye keen towards sign of betrayal, and take Caesar and the boy's life first if so set upon.” 

Neither Naevia nor Gannicus felt comforted. 

Standing beside Caesar, ready for betrayal Gannicus watched as the mob called for blood. As his own heart and mind screamed the same. But if their own people were coming back that should stand for something. 

But not if they were but doomed anyway. He did not see Sibyl in the mob. She would be likely taking a quiet moment to pray. Right now he just felt crushing weight of frustration. 

“Delivered into hands, as agreed upon,” Spartacus said over the screams for the boy's blood and Caesars. 

“I would break words. He has been too long from embrace,” he said with a dishonest smile. 

Spartacus thrust him forward and the boy took cautious steps ahead. 

Meeting in the middle Tiberius and Caesar eyed each other. 

It was Caesar however who broke first eye contact. “It lifts heart to see you yet of this world.” 

Tiberius looked like he could foam at the mouth. “Do not ply me with silver tongue. You knew them to be Spartacus’s men, under guise of Pompey's.” 

Caesar smiled as if unbothered. “A bold claim.” 

Tiberius nodded. “Well, one my father will surely be interested in.” 

Looking around at the blood-hungry crowd he smiled. “The journey to return you to his arms if fraught with peril. For one needing to be taught severest lesson in who towers above you.”

A scream came from the crowd, at first not taken any notice of. But soon it was too late. Crassus’s slave girl had already fatally stabbed the boy and he lay swiftly dying before them. 

A smile played upon her lips. 

Chaos exploded. “You mad witch!” Caesar screamed. “Do you know what you have done?” 

She smiled still. “I have balanced fucking scale,” she shouted. 

Gannicus now held Caesar and his blade went to his throat. 

Spartacus leaned down to Kore. “Five hundred people will suffer for this,” he said seriously. “The boy holds no value now.” 

Gannicus pulled at the light brown hair. “Nor does the life of Caesar.” 

Kore weakly cried out. “Wait. Crassus will yet honor trade. If you give him something else his heart desires.”


	15. Chapter 15

Gannicus was relieved to find Caesar's words and even the girl Kore’s rang true. As the survivors returned he watched as Sibyl ran about to always be of help. He blinked as he offered arm to weak brother to find rest under shade of tent. 

After, he went to help with her, but she seemed to turn from him often and he found he was following her like a puppy, helping those around her. 

Soon they were assembling together to say last good bye’s and he was glad she was by his side then, directly behind his left shoulder. 

“Hold them close for the shadow of Rome is upon them.” Gannicus could overhear Spartacus say. He would hold her close, for they had not a moment to lose. He had to cling to her tighter. Pushing her away would not make the parting any easier, and it would fill their beautiful moments that remained with bitterness. 

“We shall seek our destiny together.” Spartacus continued. “Whatever the cost.” he slowed. “Yet, let us not pass from memory those left absent from our arms. Those who sacrificed their lives so that all may live free."

Swallowing hard Gannicus turned to glance sidelong at the woman he loved now more than anyone he ever held close to heart. He would die to give her the chance of life, just as those they honored that night. 

Leaving in solemn silence he held her hand in his. Their fingers weaved. 

Once inside the tent he sighed and shed weapons and looked to her as she went to light candles and perform her nightly prayers. 

“My woman’s time ceased suddenly,” she whispered as she went to kneel at her small altar. 

“Are you well?” he asked, suddenly concerned that signified issue. 

She glanced at him. “I am well. I just did not wish to be found a liar if you saw I did not bleed. It seemed to stop.” 

He shook his head. “Never a dishonest word has fallen from your lips. However, if you wish to be left I would honor desire,” he said softly. 

Her eyes welled up. “Would you wish me to leave?” She asked. 

He looked almost hit by her question. “Leave me?” he whispered. “Why, why would you ever think I would wish you from my side while we can yet hold one another?” 

She shrugged. “You don’t…” her breath caught she looked back to her altar confused and in pain that he would wish her to stay yet this sense of parting loomed and she knew he felt it too. 

He moved to her and turned her gently from the direction she turned.

“I would pray with you,” he said seriously and she nodded making room for him at her side. “I have never done it like this.” 

She shook and smiled through her tears. “It is simple.” 

He looked pensive and nodded. “Juno,-“ he started. 

Sibyl smiled. “You would speak to Juno? Not Jupiter, or Mars?” 

He turned at her interruption. “I would speak to who protects those I love.” 

Her heated blush warmed his loins as well as enflamed his heart. He had so few times mentioned depth of emotion, but it was often there in his touch or his gaze. 

“Now, may I?” he asked playfully. 

She nodded and smiled, wiping her tears. 

“Juno, bless this woman beside me.” he prayed. “Protect her should my sword arms fail in battle, and my body broken. Lend her shelter if I am not of this world.” he prayed. “And if, after a time of proper mourning for one so deeply missed she find one of better heart.” 

She sobbed beside him. “There is none better, and Juno knows that.” she shook her head with disgust at the thought. “I will love no other,” she whispered. “I will not.” 

He looked at her and his heart contracted and sped up as he heard her vehement denial. 

He shook his head. “I will not either.” he promised, “For so long as I live I will lie with no other, and love no other,” he said. “This I vow to Juno if she but sees us together in the afterlife,” he whispered as he pulled her to him. 

She caught her breath as she realized he was entirely renouncing his old ways. Even sleeping with another, which was not something she expected he would do. 

“You would never lie with another?” she asked as he looked at her after their breathless, passionate kiss. 

Pressing his head against hers he nodded. “I may die, and you will be faced with choices in your life that remain you. I will not hold you to same vow, but I will take no other, for there will be nothing in it now that I found what there is to be had in your arms,” he whispered in her ear. 

Crying at his confession she felt him shake and hold her all the closer. 

“Gannicus,” she whispered. 

He kissed her neck, relishing in the moment of contact.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out my Original work profile on https://vocal.media/authors/m-k-dockery

Carrying a pile of sticks he moved to speak with Spartacus. The camp was readying now in a frenzy of activity, and he could not stand idle. 

“Many times have I marveled at mad schemes sprung from fevered mind. Yet, one you now set forth towers above all,” he said with awe and worry. 

“We have confounded Pompey to the north,” Spartacus replied. “Yet Crassus still advances from the south with overwhelming advantage. Hope lies only in deciding field of final battle.” 

Gannicus followed under a tent. “You weave bearest teather to the promise of such.” he protested thinking that a choice in field of battle would too little to sway the outcome. 

Spartacus nodded. “It will hold, long enough…” he said and leaned close. “For the others to slip from grasp.” 

The crushing dawn of understanding settled in Gannicus as he nodded. 

“I pray it so.” Agron’s voice broke their conversation. “And would lend much-needed aid in giving Crassus fucking pause.” his determination shown clear. 

Gannicus glanced at Spartacus’s sword to silently convey his own communication. 

Understanding Spartacus pulled his sword out. “Grip sword, and have it so.” he challenged the recent injury. 

Agron weakly lifted his hand but he reached all the same and it fell from his hand, uselessly. 

“They have taken all from me.” He said. 

Spartacus moved in, “You will yet serve purpose in the coming battle. By seeing those who cannot fight to the mountains. Return to task with Nasir and prepare for journey.” he said finally as looked upon his brother of the house of Batiatus. 

Watching him leave Gannicus sighed. “The man is more dead than living. And yet eager to give life to your cause,” he remarked.

Spartacus turned startled by chosen word. “My cause?” he asked. “It does not yet stand your own?” he asked. 

Shaking his head. “I am no martyr upon cross.” His eyes sought his woman, his reason to want to breathe. “But I will gladly give my life so that those more deserving may live.” 

Spartacus could see the longing in the man. “Then take pause, and see heart attended in advance of parting,” he advised. 

Gannicus dropped his head in a crushed nod. He did not wish it to be the last time he would lie with his woman, but it seemed to have come all too soon. His throat was tight and somehow he wished to put it off. To savor the fact it had not happened yet. But he could not now. I would now steal time from them. 

Leaving Spartacus’s side he went to Sibyl and she rose to meet him. Her eyes were wide and sad. 

“What is it?” she asked as his lips sought hers. 

Wrapping his arms around her he whispered. “Spartacus has granted time to be with you.” 

Her arms wrapped around him tightly and her eyes filled with tears. 

Pulling back his hands settled on her bare hips which were exposed by her dress. “Come, let us have privacy,” he said pulling her into the privacy of the tent. 

“Has the time really come?” she asked. 

He nodded as his hand reached up to her neck and the other reached to pull her body close to his. 

His thumb grazed her trembling lip as she fought the tears that sprang to her eyes. “I am not ready,” she whispered. Her body trembled. 

His eyes did not leave hers as he swallowed with difficulty. “Nor I.” he answered. “But I would lie with you, while there is time,” he said with a tenderness she melted into. 

His mouth covered hers as they went to undressing each other. Soon they were kneeling upon fur and he settled behind her. All the better to admire her form as he cradled her from behind. Their fingers weaved together in front of her as he kissed her and touched all that he would part from in all too short a time. 

His other hand trailed low to her belly where he still held out small prayer in the ghosted touches. 

She had become more forthright in their lovemaking in the short months they had together and he liked it when she rode him. She could draw him out and he would last longer when she teased and pleasured him from above. 

But soon urgency, and her desire to be filled with the thrust of his virility he found himself above her and between her legs as he moved within her. Their eyes tearfully meeting on the occasion as they moved together. 

His urgency and need in his every move. It was not fucking, it was him willing a piece of himself to break off into her. To cleave some fracture of him that could be removed. 

Raw need filled him as he tried to hold off but the summit was looming nearer and he wanted to rage against it even as he willed it to completion to fulfill final prayers.

It was the last time he would ever have and he was almost brought to tears as he felt his essence burst forth inside of her. His head found her neck and he clung to her a second as he humped into her deeper. 

Her cries urging him to go deeper and he did, not wishing it over any more than she. 

Pressing his forehead to hers he felt the intimacy of the moment overwhelm them both and he relaxed into her enveloping arms. But just as he did the war horn sounded and he raised himself regretfully. 

They did not even have time to linger in one another's arms. With a shuddering breath, he felt it falter as he spoke into her shoulder. 

“The hour is upon us.” 

Sibyl shook her head. “I do not want to leave your arms.” 

He smiled as he looked upon her cherished image. “Nor I see you from them.” His hand moved to her cheek to stroke it comfortingly. “But you must go with the others.” 

Her hand cradled his face. “Come with me.” her voice begged. 

His knuckles traced her chin he had first touched the night she had been presented to him. “You know I must stay, that you may reach the mountains, and live free of the Republic beyond them.” his voice was heavy with weighted words. 

She struggled with his refusal and leaned into him. “There is no life absent your touch,” she claimed. 

He frowned thinking about this beautiful, perfect woman... This woman unlike any other. Similar to one he loved before, but shaped entirely for him. 

A smile spread across his face as he played with her hair. “You once said to me that the gods had sent me to save you.” he reflected with his full measure of personal faith. “You were mistaken.” 

Her face took on a confused look. 

“You were the one sent,” he said seriously. “And I in need of saving.” 

Reaching for him she pressed her mouth against his and he returned it passionately. Before breaking it pained. 

“I will join you at battles end if I am able,” he said with weakly tethered emotion. Tears had gathered at the edge of his eyes and he was not sure he could restrain them. 

Slipping from the warmth of her body and the love of her arms. Turning back he moved to ready himself and prepare for what lay ahead of him. 

That a future, a life with the woman he thought of in his mind as his wife would never really be that. Children would never come, and he would be her past, and she, his at this point. Even if he did find himself not of this world tomorrow, this parting was likely forever. 

He did not want to acknowledge it. 

“And if you are not?” Sibyl however could not help but address it boldly with her simple question. 

Turning he smiled. On this, she was like another. “Then I shall wait for you upon the shores of the afterlife. Oenomaus and Melitta to keep me company till I hold you again,” he said trying to give self hope. 

Sibyl looked to her side and reached for her icon Jupiter and picked it up and went to him. 

Putting her arm to his shoulder she handed him her offering. “May the gods protect you, see Crassus and his legions fall to better men.” Their fingers touched as the idol passed into his hand while she hugged him to her. 

He pulled her to him in a tight hug. He had faced death many times, but it never frightened him until now. It also never mattered more. He did not want to leave her arms either. The call of battle once enflamed him, but now... He just wished there lay another path.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still a part of that writing competition and my short story is still needing reads. Thank you! 
> 
> https://vocal.media/humans/call-of-the-black-book

Outside the tent, they all gathered and Gannicus held Sibyl close. 

“No tears,” he whispered as he swallowed his own. “I fear if I see them form in your eyes they will fall from my own, and then what example will I be to the other men if I weep like a woman?” he said tenderly as his fingers wove into her hair. 

She winced at his reasonable request. “How can I not. I am possibly never going to hold you, touch you.” she felt her breath hitch and he covered her mouth with his. 

Breaking the kiss reluctantly he pressed his head against hers. “Tell me of your dreams of the future.” 

Her hands reached for him. “I have none without you.” 

He grasped her hands tenderly in his and kissed them. “No, my love. You must give me something to think on if I fall. Something to cling to as last breath leaves me.” he pressed her. 

Her lip trembled at imagined thought and she looked down between them. “If I must live without you, I dream of seeing past snow-capped mountains, to the north.” her voice low and thick with the pain of parting. But she did not wish him to see tears. “I wish a small home, with enough food, and warmth and a little boy who looks the image of his honored father and calls me 'mother'. If I am to live life without you, I dream of telling that wished-for-son stories on clear and storm-filled night, by the light of blessed vesta, and the honor of Juno about how his father died to give us life.” 

He looked into her eyes heavy with shared hope. “Would that the gods be generous.” 

“Would that dream have your blessing?” she asked. 

He nodded and smiled as he stroked down her cheek until he held her chin between his thumb and forefinger again. 

“Perhaps this was part of why you were sent by the gods.” he mused. “To give me hope when I had none left in this life. Whatever happens, I will find you after battles end or I will be waiting for you upon the shores of the afterlife,” he kissed her nose. “but I will be cross if you meet me too soon. So I will have your promise,” his voice serious. “you will spill your blood not, not for me or this army or risk your life again?” 

She smiled sweetly. “You ask the impossible again,” she whispered. “For just as you would die for me, I would joyfully die for you.” she swallowed. “But I know I cannot sway you from chosen path. Your destiny," she whispered. 

His eyes dropped in thought. 

"I love you,” she confessed. “I will go where you ask because you wish it, and though you stand not husband I will act as a wife and do bidding as if husband.”

His mouth went dry and he looked down to the cloth that held her little icon of Jupiter. The cloth she had once used to bind his wound. He had not tossed cloth aside even long after it had healed. 

“You once asked about my people,” he said thickly his other arm still wrapped around her. 

She frowned. “Yes.” 

He shook his head. “My people wedded with cords and cloth. Exchanged, and tied upon hands, their hands.… tied together” he told her. “Once the ceremony was over they were fashioned into a cloth they both wore upon wrist.” 

She cocked her head as she listened to his story. 

“I have thought us, man and wife, according to a loose adherence to my people's customs. Since I bound your wound and took you.” He touched her hair. “In my heart, you stand as such, until I breathe my last.” a tear slowly slipped from his lid and he still held close to his emotions so as not to break

In her eyes, the dam broke and he cradled her to him as he kissed her head. 

“I pray you to come back to loving wife’s arms,” she whispered. 

He smiled. “And you, to your devoted husbands. In this life or the next, gods be with you, my Sibyl.” He hugged her to him and buried his head into her hair and prayed she made it to the mountains safely. That their parting wasn’t for nothing. 

“My friends,” Came Spartacus’s voice and they both turned attention. 

“The time of our parting has come. Know that you will be heavy upon thought when we face Crassus and his legions.” he continued speaking to the crowd of both fighters and refugees. 

But Gannicus just clung to his woman while the moments raced to the time when she would be from his arms he feared forever. Looking up he tried to trust the gods. 

“Many of us will fall. Their remains strategy nor deception that can bend course of inevitable fate. Yet know that our blood shall purchase needed opportunity for you to gain mountain paths, beyond snapping jaws of Rome that have plagued us with death and misery.” he said sadly. “Part ways….and live free.” 

The young new mother that held infant in arms that had set Gannicus to long for fatherhood reached out to Spartacus as he turned. 

“Gratitude, for all you have done,” she said as Spartacus reached out to stroke the baby's bald head. 

One by one the freed slaves all reached out in gratitude and thanks, gently touching his armor as if in gentle blessing. 

Gannicus was moved by speech but he felt his arms grow weighted around Sibyl’s small frame. If he stayed much longer he would change mind and never leave her side. 

“Spartacus! Roman scouts laid eyes upon us to the south of the valley.” 

Stepping closer, “What marking did they bear?” 

“Fearsome bull upon chest,” he answered swiftly. 

Naevia turned. “Crassus.” 

“Fucking bait is seized upon,” Ludo said with a smile. 

Turning to the refugees and civilians. “Set upon path, and do not turn from it.” he barked. “Go!” 

Gannicus turned back to Sibyl, his eyes sad, hers frightened. 

“You will live well beyond the republic.” he smiled bravely. 

She reached his face. “It warms heart to have known your love.” 

Gannicus smiled. “Juno honored me when she put you upon my path. Live well, and be free.” 

Laeta came to Spartacus and put gentle hand on him. “I shall lend prayer. Toward the end of Crassus, and the triumph of Spartacus,” she said with pride in her eyes as she reached up and kissed him. 

He reciprocated tenderly, but without the passion, he knew for his wife Sura. 

Both men released their partners in unison. The moment Sibyl was from his arms he felt a mighty resentment and anger fill him. One that he let burn for it would help him in the battle ahead. 

“I have had my fill of words and tearful farewells,” he said with burning rage as he watched her leave. Her eyes not looking back as she took Laeta and helped her to step to path. “I desire blood, and the cries of our enemy.” 

Spartacus looked to the horizon. “Let us make it so.”


	18. Chapter 18

Upon the eve of battle, shields echoed in the distance as they counted the legions that stood below them at the mouth of the Silarius River. Gannicus was less than thrilled to see numerous ballistae machines marching to be erected to their mortal function. 

One rider boldly emerged from the force before them. 

“Do not engage unless given command,” Spartacus shouted. “Stand ready!” 

Shields dropped down and he moved before them. “Spear,” he commanded. 

One stood ready to fill purpose and tossed one to their leader who flung it with threatening accuracy and the horse reared up as it pierced the ground at its feet just where it near to trod. The soldier managed the beast and cried out. 

“I do not seek quarrel,” he said. “Only to deliver message from Imperator Crassus.” 

Spartacus who stood impatient barked. “Spear and reached out his hand behind him and another found its way to him. 

Spinning it menacingly he glared. “Break words and pray to your gods that I find them of worth,” he warned. 

—— 

The soldier upon horseback offered a meeting. Gannicus thought it unwise but remained quiet on the subject. 

Coming to the ridge they found the man himself with his back turned looking down upon his men, flanked by Caesar and his other soldiers and bodyguards. 

“Have you ever witnessed such a thing?” Crassus asked without turning. “So many hearts beating towards inevitable end.” 

“Why did you call me here Crassus?” Spartacus asked. 

“The same reason you came,” Crassus answered, his back still turned but at last he moved and rounded facing them finally. “curiosity.” 

“Well has it been satisfying?” Spartacus asked casually. 

Squaring off Crassus now stood with his men facing Spartacus’s in a line. “We’ve vexed each other for many months. Both suffering grievous wounds upon effort. Yet never broken single word.” 

Spartacus blinked with boredom. “There are none that would hold difference.” 

“Perhaps,” Crassus answered and pulled his sword from his side and Spartacus’s men moved to answer the threat. The Romans took on a fighting stance. 

Gannicus smiled. If the fool thought to challenge them in such small combat they would lose. The tide could turn in this very moment and he would seize it gladly. Image of his woman came to mind as did longing for her arms. 

But just as soon as that hope flamed to life Crassus handed off his sword to his second, Caesar who took it from him with confusion. 

Spartacus, understanding the meaning of action followed suit and passed it to Gannicus who looked at him less than pleased. 

“Leave us,” Crassus commanded Caesar. 

The man looked upon the commander with shock and instinct to disobey. 

“Imperator-“ he started. 

“Fall to command.” Crassus Barked. 

With great reluctance, Caesar pulled back and glared at the rebels. 

The rebels had much the same reaction. 

Gannicus felt anger course through his veins as he felt the teasing hand of the gods and he tried not to resent the hope that had found wings only to plummet.


End file.
